Nobody’s speaking and the candlelight pulls beads of condensation from your tulip.

A bullet-proof backpack tops the list of school supplies my son is required to have for his firstday of second grade.

Side A: "Backpack Song" • Dora the Explorer (by Kip Knott) "Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want" • The Smiths (by Marissa...

Daring the fish to bite, I waited all night as death's perfect bait.

"I google sunrise on the moon and we watch a timelapse of the ugliest morning we’ve ever seen."

"No one around to soak up what's left of me."

"Nothing on us but the eyes of God from space."

"Big brawl involving 31 breaks out at Waffle House."

"More questions: Am I a featured extra or a co-star?"

"She undulates her fingers winking with rings bright as eyes."

Happy new year, lovers.

"Shoulder to shoulder, becoming two soft moons rotating around a planet that is too invisible, too intimate for anyone."

"Just think, us both, on our next anniversary sitting across from one another shoveling lasagna into our gullets with our hands."

"Juicing the torrid sound, lips taut."

"He’d go to that party at that shitty apartment by Sherbourne Station and that very night a forest grew."

"No, I’d definitely kick the shovel. I’d interrupt. Her depravity can be offered at someone else’s altar."

"We conversed in soju breaths, with the sweet smell of galbi from the backseat."

On seasons – weather and life – and the way creative work endures in spite of both.

"Until I feel the bass in my chest, until I remember. Louder."

"I never burned ants, butchered cats, or masturbated in the back of class, but I’ve got this thread of freak woven straight through me."