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Drunk Poetry

I work at your sorority Kristal//Maybach I am so mindfucked I serve you dinner sometimes You don’t even know I exist I do :) (she confiscated my notebook and wrote this last part while I was dreaming of leaving)   Feelings Feelings are fun to feel the rhythmic discordance of
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Making Rome My Home

After settling into my new apartment in Rome, my housemates and I decided to hit the town. One of my roommates met a couple of girls at the grocery store down the street from our place, so we invited them over before going out. They showed up at the lobby
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Fiction: Nero

I shouldn’t have picked up when he called. I know that. He just wanted to know how the dog was doing, anyway. I look down at Nero, who is trotting along in pace with me. He snorts and pants as he moves his sturdy little bulldog legs. He resembles a
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Fiction: Semantics

I guess when I look back, it was all a question of semantics. Words were vital to me, a  part of my essence — but not a part of yours. When I was younger, I would sit in my room for hours devouring my favorite poems by Dickinson and Poe,
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Poem: Love along the Way

This would be easier if I shed data, sought torture or was looking for love along the way. Doing the 9-5, the rattlesnake on the sandstone gets nicked by everything churning in the wind. The July sun tunnels overhead. My van rusts where the paint’s chipped. Steel, the desert must
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Fiction: Comfort Food

Flora sat at a window booth in a 24-hour diner and sipped her coffee, inhaling the rich aroma and trying not to let the liquid burn her tongue. She perused the menu in front of her. It made a lot of promises. Hashbrowns, best in town. Belgian waffles, big as
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Poem: Fontana, for as Far as we can Go

A city of working faucets. My parents took me to the foot of the mountain and fed me until the hills took me in. In the dream, TV shows freeze over completely, and whatever happens happens around them. You’re not going to grow up unless I say, the loving father
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A Winter Road Trip

The photo essay below captures the essential beauty of a road trip through the American Southwest. Delicate Arch sprinkled in fresh snow at Arches National Park, Utah. A fence blanketed with snow after a recent storm in Goblin Valley, Utah. Deer peer timidly through aspen trees in Utah’s Dixie National
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Three Poems

Cartoon Sunrise A kid walking barefoot to Los Angeles rarely moves faster than traffic. The wind comes, and is like students rushing to class. Silence is swiftly abandoned. In winter, the hissing and fangs on the low-slung rails can only be the electrical towers, their turf doubling as soccer fields
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Pirate's Cove at Sundown

Notes from my journal: The California Coast

Four friends piled in a car much too small to carry all of their belongings and that, my friend, marked the beginning of an unforgettable adventure. My little Honda must have appeared as nothing less than a clown car on the run from a circus as I drove us up
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