Category Archives: Michigan
Under the Madison Street bridge, the tree that grows sideways suddenly popped flowers that smelled like corn tortillas.
I am from this place as much as I am from anywhere, and it’s this recognition that helps me know that I can feel this way again.
I don’t often think about my breath.
There are no miscalculations or extraneous details—things are only borrowed or loaned between neighbors.
Meaning, it turns out, doesn’t always accompany mortality.
I care a lot about things like that. I want people to remember good things about me.
The next morning she was clutching the screen door with her dainty insect toes.
No one has any idea what to do, and we’re all trying to use what we’ve got to make things work.
When confronted with a dozen or so unexpected snails, one faces questions of moral principle one never thought one would.