Apex Magazine
Oranges: you'll have to grow your own, love, feed themfinger-cut, moon-flow, any blood will do. The neighbour's cat—just say coyotes got her—and mice who skitter now across her silence. Migrant...
Flourless Devil's Food
Oranges: you'll have to grow your own, love, feed themfinger-cut, moon-flow, any blood will do. The neighbour's cat—just say coyotes got her—and mice who skitter now across her silence. Migrant...
You’ll find the Pièta d’Avignon at the barclutching a telegram from her husbandthe cretin of Panama— “dying of yellow fever beside the canal.All hope, everything in pieces” —received that afternoonwith...
Cancelled Flight
You’ll find the Pièta d’Avignon at the barclutching a telegram from her husbandthe cretin of Panama— “dying of yellow fever beside the canal.All hope, everything in pieces” —received that afternoonwith...
Al Manara Dirge: Beirut, 10pm, lighthouse enduring power outage. Twelve hours in the city of my infancy on a night endeavoring to portents. Without its sweeping beam, the flinty stack...
Al Manara Dirge
Al Manara Dirge: Beirut, 10pm, lighthouse enduring power outage. Twelve hours in the city of my infancy on a night endeavoring to portents. Without its sweeping beam, the flinty stack...
If Tordesillas were Tur DisaalaAnd the ‘New World’ were MoorishWould the yearning have been so tacitfor the treasures of an unknown empireThe sailing ships westward from Al-Ishbuna Would the gold...
Tur Disaala
If Tordesillas were Tur DisaalaAnd the ‘New World’ were MoorishWould the yearning have been so tacitfor the treasures of an unknown empireThe sailing ships westward from Al-Ishbuna Would the gold...
One day, sitting in a café with Rumi’s ghostover mint tea and biscuits, he told me about Shams;rhapsodized over his eyes, his fine voice,his heart that opened like a flowerbreathing...
Me and Rumi's Ghost
One day, sitting in a café with Rumi’s ghostover mint tea and biscuits, he told me about Shams;rhapsodized over his eyes, his fine voice,his heart that opened like a flowerbreathing...
What would have been my right hand—delicate fingers discolored a bit,a ghost of a ring, a seam at the wrist— belonged to Miss Clark, believed drownedin Cumberland lakes, her father...
Anything So Utterly Destroyed
What would have been my right hand—delicate fingers discolored a bit,a ghost of a ring, a seam at the wrist— belonged to Miss Clark, believed drownedin Cumberland lakes, her father...
What would have been my right hand—delicate fingers discolored a bit,a ghost of a ring, a seam at the wrist— belonged to Miss Clark, believed drownedin Cumberland lakes, her father...
Anything So Utterly Destroyed
What would have been my right hand—delicate fingers discolored a bit,a ghost of a ring, a seam at the wrist— belonged to Miss Clark, believed drownedin Cumberland lakes, her father...