I walked in at 11:03 PM under the influence of the rose water I gulped down after an ex sent the vase back to me, with eleven thorny roses intact. Aged by the tincture of time, I staggered into darkness. My palms were greased. The life coach met me in the alcove of a...
I was recently featured on Substack in Lit Mag Lounge by Janelle Drumwright as part of her “Publishing Diaries” series, where I talk about my flash essay “Floodlights” and share a bit about my writing and submission process. Feel free to check out the full Q&A...
After leaving the hospital, I remember the greenest grass, St. Patrick’s green, poking through the grit of blackened melting snow.
An indoor forest leads me up a staircase I’ve never noticed in this great city of mine I’m haunted by squandered opportunities by wind and laughter by the howling of what might have meant peace.
They met in high school while working for UPS. Brown made the connection.
Dixon looks up at me for the first time, though only momentarily. His thin lips are clenched tight with a sort of guilty smirk. I’m not sure if he looks guilty because he’s embarrassed about the scene his brother is making or because my wife now has her hands on his leg, very close to their shared groin.
It has something to do with extracting other people’s thoughts. About digesting the brains of those we love.
Not all that splatters is paint.
“They opened a Baskin-Robbins,” said my mother. The butcher was gone and the ice cream came in.
Serve, and feel the fear and inflammation drain from the vessel of your body with every sip.