If Miami were a person, she would have veneers from the same dentist who does her Botox
Because isn’t that the true nature of love, protecting each other from our wickedest parts?
Victoria Brooks is the author of Silicone God (MOIST Books/House of Vlad) a queer sci-fi novel. Jack Skelley is author of The Complete Fear of Kathy Acker (Semiotext(e)), and Myth Lab: Theories of
Tina joins our class mid semester. Instantly, I dig her aura. She shares the relaxed gait and slow drawl of the local stoners. She wears her dark hair flat and parted down the middle and has an
The moon men decided to come to Earth because they didn’t like the way the Earth people were always staring at them. Whenever they looked up at that enormous blue orb through their telescope, the
Last spring was the last spring.
Over coffee, he told me he thought I dumped him last time because we had sex too soon.
Neither a drop of white wine into the danube canal, nor a gunshot through the roof of my mouth, but something in between
On the lawn, sprinklers bend the light with no greater purpose
448.
The East German dramaturge Heiner Müller adopted Brecht’s notion of Kopien (German for ‘copying’ or ‘sampling’), the practice of regarding texts by others as material to be used, imitated,
It’s got good bones, everyone kept telling us. Who knows.
I see them right there plain as day, two-dimensional prints, sacred geometry, my life is full of meaning.
Her umbilical right to intimacy makes me wonder if I ever left the womb.
no one can reach me you stopped drinking mined former awe
I was convinced I would die. A lone cig, maybe three gin spritzes, benzodiazepining into extinction. Ativan.
As weird and wild and beautiful and filthy as Venice Beach itself, Jessamyn Violet's new novel, Venice Peach, has everything I want in books about Los Angeles: Beautiful imagery, characters that are
I am more deserving of your love than he is. My heart beats twice the size of others.
“When we were young, we had momentum. We were winning. We were best friends. Everybody seemed to care more. Everything seemed to matter more back then.”
~ Hot Tub Time Machine (2010)
On
The pain reminds me: I am here. I am real. I matter.
I put away my matchsticks / and hammer. You remain, standing / the same as you were.
when I laugh, you perk up
like a misted lily
there’s always something new to say
It is only for an hour or two that I get to panic about pregnancy before the blood starts.
behold a God's eye in storm where tapping rings / finish me.
Michelle understood my frustration. She diagnosed Peter with “terminal vagueness” and agreed it wasn’t my job to financially support him.
Hoarding is bad and it’s equally bad when all that indie music doesn’t hit the spot anymore
I like crazy. I like the monomaniacal Captain Ahab, the deranged Humbert Humbert, the murderous Raskolnikov, the obsessed Heathcliff, the serial killers Patrick Bateman and Tom Ripley, the psychopath
