After school, I’d head to the arcade first. That was my real home. I never got into games like Dad did, but I liked getting my hands in the machines, figuring out how they worked. . .Read More
Three Poems Translated from the RussianRead More
Sometimes Alice dreams she’s wearing Jennifer’s face. . .Read More
Like a Gift Passed Between Us | SonogramRead More
At the back of the hallway closet is a leather jacket. It belongs to your dad, she says. . .Read More
I was healthy and suddenly, not—an odyssey one sentence short. . .Read More
A Habit | and other poems
Earlier tonight, I sat on my apartment balcony in the cold and stared at the few stars that rampant light pollution allowed to break through. . .
as genuinely interested in the pursuit of wisdom as she is resigned to the belief that she will never achieve it. . .