In burnt sienna: a can’s rusted metal lid on mudslide playground small hands out—coins please, Señor wealth sours in my mouth now

In a time, once; a land, far off a woman is dreaming. Her nearly beautiful face opens happily to take in your budding fingers, the cord securing her body to your future She counts atoms, names your neck king of this time, this land rubbing…

The weight of the suitcase handle pulls on my fingers like a child whose question repeats in perpetuity– Are we there yet I’ve closed our front door so many times and hadn’t noticed until now that the deep wooden thud was our discordant song spilling…

Tell them to open their mouths and taste the air. If dust has overtaken the saltiness, tell them it’s okay to move closer to the Pacific and that their mother was not always confined to this mattress, sedatives swirling in her blood. Keep your arms…

Our guide walked briskly, her feet acquainted with the rocky trails, while ours stumbled over the uneven dirt. She took us beyond the jumping cholla, their spines straining to tear our shirts, and knelt briefly before the skeletal remains of a Joshua tree. When the…

Whooo are youuu? ~ Caterpillar, Alice in Wonderland Fifth grade. Journalism segment of English class. Answer these five questions and you’ve got a story, the teacher said: who, what, when, where, why. Who… I am a shadow dancing in the dark. I am a meadow,…