Showing results for February, 2021
ode to the state that raised me, or: when people ask where I’m from and I tell them Jersey and they say oh I’m sorry and think it’s funny, I want to punch them in the throat
As a pack, my Korean-Italian-American cousins and I were little foul-mouthed figurines made of compressed carbon and steam. On their own, they knew how to stand.
We learned how to live together more slowly than we learned how to live with the swallows.