Blog, Creative Non-Fiction

When We Were Stardust

We decided it had been a month of physical time spent together over the course of eleven years. I don’t know when we learned to reach into the guts of one another, forge our way through slimy intestines and caustic stomachs trying to deconstruct the nature of ourselves, leaving tendrils of skin cells like breadcrumbs… Continue reading When We Were Stardust

Blog, Creative Non-Fiction

Mirrors

The wind blows differently in autumn. It carries a sense of anticipation as the world changes, infuses the air with palpable desire as the leaves dance mischievously from the branches. There is a tension inherent in the changing of seasons, but fall is the final burst of glory before the winter chill takes hold, the… Continue reading Mirrors

Blog, Creative Non-Fiction

Letters to the Dead

“If you ask a dead man what he’s learned from dying, he’d say give and give and give---that’s how to live.” -Lovers, “Cedar Falls”   His name was Neal. In the photographs, his hair tumbles to his shoulders, a flowing mane of midnight silk framing a weathered, beautiful face: guarded eyes, nearly black, and a… Continue reading Letters to the Dead

Blog, Creative Non-Fiction

Magnesium

You were in nestled in, faded navy blue sweatpants thin with wear around the ankles like maybe they were too long and you had walked on them unconsciously for years. You were perched (there is no other way to describe the way that your body clenched and balanced itself on the armrest of the couch where my head has laid other times, my eyes dazed and staring up at you as you pull your glasses off, a familiar gesture that I’ve seen so many times, and I kept thinking how I like the different ways you look with your glasses on and off, the parts of you that come out in each moment and the span of seconds between, the transition when you reach your hand up, sometimes slowly, sometimes frantically, sometimes pushing them atop of your head, sometimes tugging them from your face and setting them aside on the coffee table or letting them fall into the cracks of the couch or rest on your bedside table against the wolf lamp that does not give off enough light for you to capture a picture of the wetness surrounding your body when we are up far too late talking and fucking over distance and language.) Anyway.

Blog, Creative Non-Fiction

When I Write You In

Summer walked in one night, unannounced and fashionably late, dropping her scorching baggage in my yard and settling in for a nice, long stay. You’d think I would be used to this by now—she always brings an electric heat that pulls the oxygen from my lungs, leaving me breathless and dizzy. So I do what… Continue reading When I Write You In