Critical Mass
To fight your family’s genetic tendency to become ghosts, you rub makeup on your face so people can see you.
Love’s Exodus
El Coyote appears before my shack, silhouette illuminated and clear. He removes his fedora and taps it against the wall, dust and sand in my eyes.
Nullibiety
Both men made me promises. They said it would be better, that there would be bounty. And space, so much space between homes.
In Less Than 365 Days
I knew a lot had changed in my part of town since I left because cafes had cropped up all over the place, like small checker pieces from other boards migrating over to ours.
Bringing Him Back
I had finally begun to build a home of my own. Unsettled and confused after college, I moved to Monterey, a coastal town in California, where I was amongst friends and working as a preschool teacher.
Two Stories About Us
Several years ago, while writing a philosophy dissertation about moral saints and drinking ungodly quantities of coffee at night, I came across two real-life stories that ended up having a profound effect on me.
The First
I am gripping my chest as my colleague attempts to reassure me. “The paramedics will be here soon,” she says.
The Gaumont
My Mum kissed my Dad in the back of that mosque / When it was still the Gaumont —
No One Calls me Chris
He wants to go a year backward. The evidence of this desire is the date he writes on all of the release forms.
The Acquiescence of Motes (Purity)
When we were fourteen, we were noticed.
Art in the space of social issues
