An Ode to the Gathering
I write about how much I miss a recently-defunct business because the Gathering, to myself and many, many people, was more than a place to get a good chai.
Ghosty Ghosty All Alone
Those were the saddest things I could think of at that age: Ghosty was lonely. And without ice cream.
Unwanted Guests
I repeated the words I’ve heard from my friends, family, and therapists, hoping that they’d pull me out of the dark corners of intrusive thoughts.
Ideal Reading Conditions: Pitch Darkness, Eyes Closed.
I can’t stand to think about it outside of my sketchbook and my Word document.
Coffee Creepies: Ghost Stories from your Local Starbucks
The tales say The Peeing Man looks just like a normal customer, so you’ll never know it’s him, until it’s too late… .
Does This Not Haunt You?
I struggle to write in terms that will be received by a general audience as measured, considerate, thoughtful, because for the past year Palestinian suffering has been irrational, malicious, unthinkable.
Little Ghost
I am unsure of whether we remembered to lock the front door.
Don’t Scroll Past
When the topic comes up in conversation, I pause before saying the word genocide.
My Dream
There are days when it seems that all I can think about are people who have seemingly moved on from me.
Through the Night
I pictured the coyotes silently circling, their yellow eyes and bared teeth ready to make quick work of the nylon between us.
