Photo: aceshot1 / Shutterstock.com Gardens, more glitter than greenery. South Street sermonof wishes made, coins tossed into the chromium chasm. Hallowed be the absinthe-tinted bottles, bicycle wheelsunmoving and tile trails, each piece a mosaicked religion we worship...
Photo: KMarsh / Shutterstock.com You named me after three tombstones in Laurel Hill Cemetery. Your freckled hand on your swollen belly, your light gray eyes scanning the marble and granite slabs. You were running out of time. You said it was the touch of cinnamon in...
“Bicentennial moon tree marker” by David Victor is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0 Washington Square Park, Philadelphia This used to be a Night Marketfor body parts (spectral physiciansstill pick through piles of criminals under the Moon Tree). We sit abovethousands...
Waste is what I’ve put into my bodyalong with a monster I had slept beside, among a morning when my mouth acted as a napkin and I found I ate all the things I once loved.Cool, blue, refrigerated, and my lips burned from the coals of old meals. A Franciscan with his...
It’s that time of year when the eucalyptus trees peel their bark like wet swimsuits and let them slap onto the ground, as if they could step out of the soggy pile and kick it to the side. They bare their long trunks, poised on the precipice over New Brighton beach...
Photo: nyker / Shutterstock.com Miggy’s going to make history tonight, my boyfriend says to me, the Michelob sloshing through his words. The 500th win is ours tonight. A teen flips a number on the fan-made sign from 496 to 497. My boyfriend’s shoulder bumps into my...
