I remember when you first walked into my room in a navy blue surgical suit with a bright yellow ‘UofM’ logo, and a scrub cap with the opposing team’s emblem, boldly displayed on the front. The first irony of this whole endeavor. You were calm and supportive, you were kind and loving, you were
A stick, a stone, a lost spelling bee the militent – sorry, militant nature of casual conversation. A gun, a knife the wasteland between what your major is and what’s next. Pollen, the way everything sticks, and the way everybody gets stoned. Electric cars, ghost tours in convertible-hearses, an
Start with the pockmarked rind, plunging fingers into unfiltered sunlight. Feel the juices sink into the well-worn spirals of your skin, staining them a musty orange. Believe that it is Jupiter you are tearing open, rather than a thing needed for survival. Next, peel away the sticky, sallow threads
The smell of freshly plucked grain and sliced fruit greets me as I step into the last stop on my messenger trail in Fahee, a farmer’s market the locals call “Barric’s” after the original owner. I’ve had a long journey delivering mail to and from Polaris, nine twelfth-years to be exact, and
Back in 2010, we slept on the same bed and smudged peach gloss onto our lips, fanning ourselves with our Hannah Montana flip flops, still sandy from the playground. On those endless days, we were entangled with one another, whispering and dreaming in sync. I laid on your sofa and ate packages of Gir
“Sometimes, the only way to deal with a house fire is to help it burn, so that it consumes itself before setting the whole town alight.” -Unknown We’re in a world of weapons: the newscaster and the songwriter, guns with no serial numbers, the bible and the people who twist it. If you’re no
