faces you cannot tell a man by his face you may only tell how the world will treat a man god willing if you’re a woman the greatest shame is how long it may take us to learn that our faces are nothing but translucent filmic microsheets transmogrified to weapons to cause pain Continue reading Faces
The words below originally appeared in Vine Leaves Literary Journal. This publication marked the first time that my work appeared in print. I have adapted these words to form the image below. Continue reading Palace of Infinity
cartography nations are but playgrounds child dazzle with your play your will to love and touch is heartier than one can say your laughter is the perfect map of how the land shall overcome embrace alas the world is our home Continue reading Cartography
Identity is a loaded word. Positive or negative, known or unknown, our unnamed narrator struggles with understanding her identity. Get your wine on with Daniel DeLeon’s French vineyard story “Fruit on a Vine.” Continue reading Fruit on a Vine
Two tourists on motorbike, lost in the wilderness in rural Thailand, spy opium dealers with machetes. Continue reading The God That Smiles
To my now-ex lover Madison, When we first met two years ago, I had no expectations. With each day, I became more enamored by your beauty. I could not help but love you— I still love you to this day. But there are so many places that I wish to go, and you seem to … Continue reading To My Now Ex-Lover
Quick jam session with my old buddy Henry, a green-cheeked conure that my roommate fell in love with at a cafe in Seattle. This video was shot before the bird became a violent depressive who shat over all that we owned. Continue reading Henry Rocks the Keys
Makin’ love on the classic Ray Charles track: Continue reading Hit the Road Jack
From verses written as letters, to the pencil-scratching back-track, to its dramatic delivery and its exploration of obsessed fandom, Eminem’s “Stan” remains revolutionary. Here’s my ripoff of one of the most original works of my lifetime. Continue reading Stan
The poem below originally appeared in Yellow Chair Review in 2016. Exhale I became a poet in the moment that the knifepoint pierced my thigh. One bolt of lightning, one crystal bullet, one expiration, one life, one prickled pinpoint of steel like starshine forever scrambled my private universe. Nuclear holocausts, atomic bombs, space exploration and … Continue reading Exhale
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