Explore

I keep hearing water sprites chattering, breathing.

My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.

My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.

They cut you off, let fall your hammered silver bracelets to the sand.

Your friends are sniffing glue from a paper bag in the back of an Impala.

I love scientists. They’re trying their hardest. And they just want love.

Hemingway’s The Garden of Eden was edited by Tom Jenks.

She had felt to him like some floating spirit of who she used to be.

It seemed to her that they only ever touched each other in transient, sudden ways.

It is the night of whores and monsters, but without the killings.

Ajax can answer all this killing only with the killing of himself.

Slice a finger while opening a beer can, fizz the gin high in tumblers.

We press closer to look at a picture: a handcuffed boy leaning toward us.

Let him search, Tricia thought, who knew what he might discover.

“The doors are closed,” she said, and we would not be flying to Paris.

Neither fame nor wealth could provide consolation for life’s brevity.

She wears her nakedness like it has been woven from air.

Lebanon’s sky was full of stars. The sky here doesn’t have any stars.

Kansas is a cold dessert, I say. No, Kansas is a tongue depressor, he says.

Not all his children love themselves. Look at little Adrienne.

A homecoming, she says, as if you hadn’t been back in decades.

In the many pages of the book of love this is only one story.

My “lonelymaking.” Also known as my horrible secret, continent-wide.

No fields of gold. No ripe. One hill, no wave, no roll. I am billboards.

I slept but never dreamed there. Nor did I feel the need to court a god.

It wasn’t clear if there was an outside world to our outside world.

I never felt heart stop or skin burn, just the first split second of sound.

Lillian-Yvonne Bertram

She only eats condiments, pickles, slices of sharp cheddar.