Goat
Starched white suit, he wears an olive oil can crown on his head, carries challah as a scepter, a scepter mixes seeds blown from a thistle rubbed on the honey
Starched white suit, he wears an olive oil can crown on his head, carries challah as a scepter, a scepter mixes seeds blown from a thistle rubbed on the honey
Books UPS taped and labeled, my proxy before I landed in Shreveport where a shunned bullet path stuttered like a roman candle, and a bag of chips fell from a
She sits on a bench wearing a carved tree resin rose black garbage bag filled with acorns, eucalyptus leaves, her bandages of flesh. Whatever she finds she stuffs into her
Last night I crossed the condo’s parking lot, caught my towel on an open metal gate soaked in a Jacuzzi during a lunar eclipse, moonlight spreading in the sky like
This is a story of two coffee shops that face each other on opposite sides of the street. One is General Arthur’s, named after a World War II veteran who
Inside the discolored sink of her hands, a woman leans over a single spark. Hers alone to nurse this foul splinter. To smother with rocks or feed with her breath?