PoetryOmaha
Now this is a special kind of nowhere. Its midpoint even, a place equidistant from North and South, somewhere neither desert nor tundra. The…
PoetryAA #2 – Unnamed: We’ll Call Him Mushroom
He doesn’t know where to start so he looks into the styrofoam cup to find a reflection he has become proud of staring from…

Giants
We are stars trying to collide, objects caught in our orbits dashed to rocks in process mean nothing; we merge. Made massive, other light…
PoetryLess Tomorrow
Fell asleep inside him after wind slipped through a window, found a crack into my absent mind. Tomorrow lurks around our edges, minutes fall…
PoetryLast Year’s Census
Eventually, we stop counting; the final bird of prey rips out the throat of the penultimate field mouse and dies soon after. Beyond its…