Writing
Everything I Am Without Instagram
Every single thing I ever posted was I promise I’m interesting translated six times over. Which would have been kind of tragic, except that everyone promised me that I was.
FICTION
Lisa thought, this is what annoys people about teenage girls, and in the same breath, felt a blow of cosmic loneliness.
POETRY
When am I done running? When am I done? When I’m pregnant? When my knees give out? When I have the perfect stomach or the perfect soul?
FICTION
Imagine a summer stolen, not from a color-graded coming-of-age, but from the black-and-white double truck of a small-circulation newspaper. Imagine Faust correct and the devil is a dog come to earth.
FICTION
I knew I had acquired a talent for forgery when my father tried to use one of my coupons at Golf Galaxy. It was detrimental to my ego and to the rest of my life when it worked.
POETRY
This trail is my brother who I have seen naked and shaking in the rain.
FICTION • TYPOGRAPHIC ROMANCE
Perhaps a chain restaurant before noon is too holy a temple to shatter with sound.