The Art of Staying
I love the city I now call home, but it’s never been my destination.
I Didn’t Know Shit About A Lot of Things
I’m a youth director who wakes up most mornings wondering if God is even real. I’m prone to weariness from the locational and spiritual uncertainty of my future.
Sounds of Salamá
From the kitchen comes the pitter-patter of the pressure cooker, rap tap tapping, hissing spurts of steam, signaling that something delectable will be on the table at the next meal—most likely black beans.
In Life and in Death
A hot and electric pulse coursed through my body, like the shock you receive from an exposed wire, only longer-lasting, and warmer.
The Strip Mall Zoologist
Maybe when I have bigger problems I’ll consider switching my primary care physician to someone with a background in medicine.
Just a House
I was suddenly aware of everything: the squelch of the slider door’s rubber seal releasing as my brother came in from the yard. The creak and crash of the screen door to the garage behind my dad.
Goddess of Weaving
Or maybe I was right to be scared. Maybe my parents only told me giant spiders weren’t real so that I would let my guard down.
The Glorious Summer the Ceiling Fell In: A Plan for a Poem
I’d personify the pigeons that crowd onto the narrowest of ledges on the building across the street, their plumage flashing psychedelic green and pink.
Encounters of the Patron Kind: Three Memories from Work at a Public Library
I’m not allowed to comment on the items that patrons check out, so I try not to pay attention.
This Old House: Things I Learned Time Traveling
It is in the repetitive ritual of opening and closing the house each day—unrolling the broken shade by hand, wrestling with the deadbolt on the warped front door, seeing age—that I find inexplicable revelations.
