Loft

The pair was stacked. Two hollow accordions sitting deflated, squat, and patient on the floor.

He existed in a windstorm. Feverishly keeping the lattice work of lies he'd built from violently splintering into the howl.

"Everyone's wrong", she said. "The real problem with life is that you don't get to choose who loves *you*."

Summer Fingers

Hollow Bones.

A belly full of wine and good friendship before this glowing window stopped me cold on my hushed walk home.

Purchase

Lattes & Light

From The Place Where My Heart Should Be

A mirrorball of long friendships, a fishbowl of harsh reflections.

Myo(to)pia.

I made a squeegee with the skin between my thumb and forefinger…

She'd fostered an insidious talent. I'd watched her inject germs of doubt into so many beautiful confidences.

It was money. Thank God. The anvil of debt was gently raised from my chest and I slurped the air.

Squeezed within the mouth of an animal more powerful than she could possibly be. Pressed until the hope leaked out.

The pitch and yaw is the most delicious part but one thousand soaring flights must be one thousand horrifying plunges.

The choice was difficult. It was either a nest of complicated detachments or an excruciating conversation full of childhood anecdotes.

I hadn't accounted for the violence of the palms. Their fronds cracking in the wind like wicked snapping beaks.

She caught the angular little nub between the tip of her shoe and the asphalt and began to apply pressure.

Wrinkle

The warmth was the most immediate thing. It was the warmth which made the cooler places apply to the skin.

Today is alarm practice day.