Wedged in my plantar fascia’s rivers
of tissue, the tip of a spike from the locust
tree—some long as a boning knife—whose
thorn evolved to ward off long gone
mammoths, and who’s
yet to realize
their absence.
Wedged in my plantar fascia’s rivers
of tissue, the tip of a spike from the locust
tree—some long as a boning knife—whose
thorn evolved to ward off long gone
mammoths, and who’s
yet to realize
their absence.
It was a spectacular spring: sparrows bickering in the trees, the street carts smelling of syrupy cashews in front of the Jewish Museum— you bought flowers, said Hi to ...
The plot’s restless. Newness grown stiff from disuse. To believe to have lived through the end of something and still to remain in that tight ruse of ...
We come together. To love someone means to imagine their death. 2 a.m. and you lie awake in fear of us. What if? What if? Call your mother. Say you’re ...