I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can’t see from the center.
-Kurt Vonnegut
SELECTED WORKS
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Bottled (Self-Collaboration 4)
On a winter day that thinks itself summer, the ice built up on the awnings of the town’s Walmart drips down to splash on the sidewalk in a shining curtain of rainbow drops. Parked in the lot’s last space, an old Ford Taurus sits silently. I sit inside, barely visible through the dirty, cloudy windows,
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Marcelle (Self-Collaboration 3)
Marcelle is awake in a stranger’s bed. The light from the window pours onto her pillow as a golden deluge, blinding. It doesn’t matter what time it is, she always leaves as soon as she sees the sun. She finds her skirt and top, both too small and thin for the weather, and pulls them
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What It Takes and Takes
He sits in the back of the car, his cheek stinging and beginning to swell where the Good Samaritans had hit him. They’re all still out there now, shouting at him through the window, outraged. Where was the anger when he was seven, his mother high and never coming down? Where was the fury when
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Sippy Cup Confession
I don’t know of a time when Weight wasn’t wedged into the creases of my brain like a splinter. I think the first time I became aware of Weight, not only of your body but of your worth, was at a Pizza Hut in Caracas, Venezuela. My mom would always mop the grease off my
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Yesterday’s Feelings (Self-Collaboration 2)
The city is cleft in the middle by a wide and raging river, as powerful as each side’s distaste for each other. It’s not the river that divides the city so much as the people who have sundered it; the river is only a geological happenstance they use as a pretense, to support the division
j.k. armstrong 