“She was a good person,” Toby said, as if he was trying to convince himself. He nuzzled his temple against my knee.
FICTION
POETRY
The Panopticon
Is it theory / wrenched from memory?
TRANSLATION
“My Place In The Horizon” and other poems
“the tremble
of insect colonies whose only presence is a sound.”
MICRO
From the Archives: “Black Boy With Fists in Pockets” and “What The Body Remembers”
Yesterday
My body was all salt
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Two Tragicomic Sonnets: Special Delivery & Blaze Pizza Receipt
Vegan Cheese, Classic Dough (Vegan), Arugula
The Widening Gyre
I can’t stop thinking about who is silenced and who is doing the silencing, about who is and isn’t heard.
Gentleness is Something New I Can Afford
In illustrations, a thin line or a curved line or a broken line can illustrate softness.
From the Archives: The Observer’s Cage
Of all of us, she was the most tied to the telescope. It had been her idea. All these men and their obsession with disk size. A thirty foot disk, a sixty foot disk, a hundred foot disk. Part of her genius was to imagine a different shape: the wide fragile net.
To Ruminate, Begin Here
You’ll never truly know and will always be left wondering. Return to 1 for other realities.
