Let me swim into your eyes. Let me show you my world. My album. My Albania. My albumen.

No matter how bad his hair turned out or how avocado shaped one of those miscreants could make his head look, he would remain silent.

One day, my feet and hands got into an argument. My feet argued that they were superior because they were not only the foundation of my body, but the cause of its mobility. They were modest in size, yet supported and transported an entire body that towered over them.…

A dirtied light falls through/ the grimed windowpanes.

It's as if the house knew I was relinquishing my hold on it.

He painted a woman on them, identical to the woman that kneeled by his bed.

To listen is to feel embodied reason// sing and dance with consummate grace

Ayane took another look of the area and it was large warehouse. A loud thud vibrated outside.

On a street-lit night in Jeddah.

So where does that leave me, Roscoe Loomis wondered, dismounting his silver, aluminum steed in his sweat-soaked, spandex outfit, and, clearing the saliva from his beard he walked over, checked and smiled, learning that the bike track's timing unit showed it was Roscoe's…

We called him Mickey Habanero, because he could fill his mouth with the hottest food imaginable, the kind packed with the sort of heat that would melt the gums from the teeth of a novice, all without taking a drink of milk or anything else that would otherwise soothe the…

The county sent two crews, one to get Mr. Meyers, the old shut-in, tall and affable, but quiet and bent, like a crooked coat rack with a porkpie atop, the other for his dog, an english setter whom he shadowed like a familiar. I say he was the familiar and

Now it's late. I am hanging upside down from a rope coiled around my crushed left ankle, the pain too sharp to be really felt, as the excess blood to my head makes my thoughts fuzzy. I am almost two meters from the rock face, thirty-five hundred meters above sea-level, the…

Come to the park and swing with me, sing with me.

when i was five or six/ we lived in an apartment/ and every sunday/ i'd lie on the carpet/ to watch squares of sunshine/ crawl across the rug/ while my mother inflicted upon us/ a centuries-long hour of television/ worse than any droning mass.