Cold at ninety feet, even in a wetsuit. No O2. Just a belly of breath and an anchorline descent, hand over hand, into a dark womb of heartbeats. Into a ravaged and abandoned universe.....
Speculative 66: September 2016
Excerpt from "Morning on the Shell Trade Route: Aboriginal Potsherd (Exact Origin Unknown)"
You are standing where an earthen vessel shattered and became
the land once dissolved in hungry tongues of basalt
grown still red-black boils roil and burst and freeze
holding form the trajectory of long ago volcanic force.
But not so long ago if you listen.....
The Voices Project: August 21, 2016
Excerpt from "Playing in the Swamp of Always"
“I saw a snake yesterday.” The girl squatted, knees kissed mud.
“I saw a turtle.” The game was ancient, ritual.....
Blink Ink: Magic Issue 2016
Excerpt from "Penning the Nasty/Creed"
I am on my knees at the table's end, pen poised over fresh notebook paper. On the first floor below, the air is a warm muddle of voices in amiable chatter. A woman's jazz alto sashays alongside thehuman hubbub and the mechanical din of barware clink and clatter, and at the door feet clomp in from the cold to shuffle up to the bar beneath the loft where we are learning to write about sex....
FLAPPERHOUSE: Summer 2016
Excerpt from "Father-Daughter Lessons"
Put the tip of your knife in the silvery place where the soft-scaled belly meets tail. Press down. Draw the blade away, not toward. Cleave the meat, and fish out...
Fifty-Word Stories: April 14, 2016
Excerpt from "On Un-Becoming"
“Hello, beautiful one. Would you like to hold him?”
Together we look up, blinding each other with our headlamps, bathing the other in red light. He extends a hand draped in arachnid legs and hair, the creature’s abdomen lean as a new mouse. Dutifully, I’ve identified him. Smaller, skinnier, longer legs, tibial spurs for warding off female fangs during spider sex—and two pedipalp bulbs: He is definitely a he.....
Eastern Iowa Review: May 2015