But at least I’m not alone. 

my love songs undulate like the abandoned strands of kelp

“Hello, you. Hello, there.”

She thought maybe none of it had been really real.

Against my cheek, her hair was softer than I’d imagined.

Once, before you were born, / I ran from him down the street

we can talk about / pain all you want

…the still surface was like glass, a dark mirror reflecting a world of thirst…

Her sacrifice, Suzy thought, was already worth it.

Their relationship had not been profound but it had been cordial and fond…

My youngest sister’s dying first.

I wonder if a landscape holds remnants of what happened there…

Smells of home.

Hunger is the courage of having nothing to lose.

The old ladies march

“Oh, it’s definitely our story, Paul.”

Chloe wants her water enclosed, straight.

As I neared the corner of Henry Street, I took out my mobile phone and recorded a video of the surrounding scene, less than a minute in length.

He dreams of broken bottles and the sea. 

I stood in a field of meadowfoam