the air is heavy like the breath you blew across my ear to tell me that moss grows on the stoplight where I walk in sneakers whose holes allow the water to seep in, past trees dripping with lichen the rainforest isn’t far from the valley between volcanoes, fertile that’s how you see me, I…
the first morning we ate crackers and canned peaches with protein powder as the sun rose past the scrub brush trees and the missile silo doors and I imagined the doors flung wide to spend a dozen Titan AE-1s at our foes, real and imagined, while the boys around me chattered like the apocalypse was…
the second bedroom downstairs you can have the second bedroom downstairs move in your boxes and don’t mind how the crows will scream at the glory of another sunrise every damn day just – put away your books and focus on the light come dappled through the trees and above you my soft footsteps,…
At night I dream of Pittsburgh. I dream of a small studio apartment with a single jug of milk in the fridge, of a spring mattress and unmade sheets, and of a cat waiting by a half-full water dish. Of shades drawn and flickering shadows cast across the nighttime floor as I stumble through my…
Kindred 