• poetrybannerThumbnail
    July 8, 2016

    Feeling Bad About the Names We Gave

    I know your suicide like the start of a drumroll, the smell of rotting stars in my pockets rolling around between fingers. The wind played the holes i...
  • poetrybannerThumbnail
    July 1, 2016

    Excavations

    Whatever it was, I'd go first. You made me close my eyes and eat things out of your hand. There are stories where that's cute, but not when it...
  • poetrybannerThumbnail
    June 24, 2016

    Clay

    The waves once crashed at my beckon call. The sun hid in the gray matter of the sky and dared not to show itself. No bird cast shadow no matter...
  • poetrybannerThumbnail
    June 17, 2016

    THE MOON ONLY RISES (After MEI YAO CHEN)...

    Night unfolds like a skein of silk. But its beauty brings me no relief. The stars are so far away, they can give no warmth or compassion. The moon fee...
  • poetrybannerThumbnail
    June 10, 2016

    The Graduate

    Some people are taught how to write Framed parchment, fancy script hanging pretentiously above cherry wood roll top desks brimming with pomp and circu...