We were friends once. The woods were still dark, but they felt safer when you felt close. You were a watched clock on the wall Of this...

I wrote a poem once for a man who did not deserve it, she says. He had a darkness inside, a humidity, but eyes like icewater: polluted...

We are none. Fled and utterly gone are we. Our ashen bones and flesh discarded lie ‘neath the ignorant earth, Feeding the emerald crown...

It resonates. This moment between moments, when our compulsion to be is not comprised of wishes that we were other than we are. A...