A JOURNAL OF ART + LITERATURE
Reptilian Reptilians either evolved on Earth & left when they mastered intergalactic space travel or they’re from a planet in the Draco constellation & flew here to imprison all humans. I learned this on YouTube: fell into a video hole of people dissecting movie stills in which Reptilians give glimpses of their true form like... Continue Reading →
Maybe you hear a bell, heard it for years, clang-clang-clang. You sit on the floor, legs in a deep V, lean across to your left ankle.
She supposes plenty of hunters enjoy what they do rage-free but wonders if this isn’t worse. Maybe, she thinks, we are all predator and prey.
The Founding of Rome I’m trying to feed baby girl, and she shakes her head, slaps the spoon from my hand, raspberries away any puree I manage to force into her mouth. I give myself a time out, but it doesn’t help. “You have to eat!” I come at her again. This time she shields... Continue Reading →
I pray for a fire. It would break the monotony of telephone rings and the buzzing of the damned lights.
Later, the girls stand in front of the open refrigerator, slightly feral: slices of cheese torn from plastic, pickles from the jar, a swig of Hershey’s syrup, jelly scooped out with a finger.
For Witches Ohio, 1994 Here is a language for witches. No. Here is a language for high school. No. Here is magic in all its occult guises. No. Here is high school in all its occult guises. No. Here is a hallway in a high school. The floor is gray linoleum. Lockers line the walls.... Continue Reading →
Dollar Store, Yes The checkout girl is fecund with child, and her neck is so finely dappled with the unmistakable constellations of hickies that when she asks you if you want more (more chips because you have one bag, and it’s two for one), you automatically say “yes,” because clearly this girl is teaching you... Continue Reading →
To My Ancestors To My Ancestors, Down the street around the cul-de-sac are the purple flowers that are shaped like snap-dragons except somehow prettier. I do not think they grew when you were here. // In the summer I am a browning leaf. I hear my bones crack and crumble underneath the smooth white soles... Continue Reading →
Thanksgiving, 1996 It’s a generous memory. My uncle holding crystal, delivering on the joy of family; his wife, my aunt, looking through the turkey one day after discovering her marriage vows had been violated. My father drunk again, my mother worried, her hand nervous at his side, trying to take a hold of his... Continue Reading →
NEW SOUTH 