1. The boat is her own, made in secret over many months by her own hands. Her own hands on the scavenged oars, stolen from the palace storehouse and made for larger hands, she is pushing with all of her weight through the steel waves. The waves clean the wooden hull...

WTF? I said fast pace, like a racehorse. Don't you ever listen? I was falling, and the horse raced on, and on into the sharp branch, right through its heart. Down, down. me, and the terrible twisting, just as snow began to fall. There was no hiding, and we had taken...

3 objects between us responsible for the halted world: an apologia Is it just that I wanted to offer these, the three I gripped while bursting through the doorway from, I don’t know, for your delight? In my right the kewpie doll, in my left a square of chocolate, in...

I chose the microgloss game, and wrote this all on an envelope (that also had a shopping list, so it seemed "primed" to receive more information). Here's a picture of the envelope: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1RNwzcvjURGpRnNuGvtai_2gEK37qPsTP/view?usp=sharing...

Sunlight streams through the filmy curtains of a man’s hotel room. He stirs, hearing joyful sounds of a crowd on the street below. Rouses from bed to the window. A crowd has gathered in joy to share in beating an old man, yellow star visible on his tattered coat. The...

Hey amazing mammals--I just wanted to open up a space for discussion about any of the readings and thoughts from this weekend. And if you want more links or strange things, drop a comment. Or tell me what you're thinking. I, for one, am still thinking about how Andrew...

Hunched in his mother’s second floor rental, we’d shun his chattering siblings for chess. Fingers, eyelids, bishops, silence. The persistence of a pawn. Sliding and switching and leaping. His quick laugh if I forked his men. His mother’s pork roast wafting between us....

Ice Cream Sunday It’s a blur of fact or fiction, your smeared lipstick, handcuffs in a purse, condoms in a web, and each lick of the savage sun is a cheese grater on skin, while the taxis die like dinosaurs and a little girl on the corner drops her cone by the curb in...

True Romance When My Depression elopes with a hermit crab, I have no qualms whatsoever, but I also have no name for it. The Hermit and My Depression honeymoon on a choppy Central American coast, but quickly decide to buy a cozy, sea cave condo where the two of them...

The house is under a pall today. Perhaps on your way to you could come see? I swear it was not, yesterday. Today is what it is now, all is and that. Letters and not, like that, for heaven’s sake. There again. Shapes, as instances where there were before such and such....