Destruction She runs. She runs and the Devourer hunts her relentlessly. It is a creature of fire and chaos and death. She had bound it once with powerful magics and used it as her ultimate weapon. But now it has been freed, it remembers who enslaved it, and it hungers for her soul.  She runs over the desert sands, heedless of the bloody footprints she’s leaving behind her. She looks ahead and sees a statue. In days past, she might have looked at the stone colossus and seen

the moon i see you there, legionnaire i see the pen you bear like the tide i bring in – i surface – all the tears you veneer i see them hit the canvas as you look up to me & stare – i’m a friend a glimpse out the pane whenever you need an ear these craters upon my face show i’ve too felt the strain of being pulled in all directions besides the one i felt most sane so even sometimes i disappear to gather my thoughts & fears – but i’ll always return to the sky & listen for i ha

The pine woods creaked lazily in the slightest of breezes as I returned to the cabin. Wood pigeons and songbirds cooed and twittered above my head, no doubt enjoying the afternoon sun as much as I did. It crossed my mind to sit down under the trees and join them for an hour or two, but I had the latest box of samples under my arm, and more than enough work to get through before the pickup scheduled for the end of the week. I’d been alone in the woods for three long weeks and

"I need to go out," Emma didn’t care whether anyone in the residence's security staff heard her or not. Everything that happened in the main hall was recorded and monitored live, so someone definitely did. "I'm going to the forest," she added, knowing this would keep them from bothering her. The forest behind the residence was a safe zone. It stretched far from public streets and was surrounded by the protected grounds of the government estate. She needed to get her thought

un soneto para mi pueblo   escrito en inglés  “when you stand up too fast and start seeing your ancestors.”  – jalain page,  january 9th, 2022.  INT.  a young woman sits on the carpet with the intricate pattern. her eyes are screwed shut, her legs criss cross applesauce – you know, the way they taught you how to sit in elementary. she wears what most young ladies wear in this day and age – a cropped, oversized white t-shirt, jean shorts, and black socks.  beaded ea

your pupils are dilated, like our mother’s when she cried  which wasn’t often, but when she cried– remember when she cried? –it was like waterfalls were gushing out of her irises  like the whole of the jordan river was drowning out her body  and neither of us could tame the rapids or save her from her own salt  weeping like the willows in our garden  hiding like the ghosts inside her mind  absent like the records at our school  yet, we were somehow so attached to her grasp–li

Unruly Cinders Eyes that criticize Hold unwarranted power,  As they gaze on with reticent anguish, Laying up a store of waste for every day and hour   Passed, by raking Emotions over embers And coals, hot with disdain – unless, Saved by a pair of unruly cinders   That escape the burnt-up heap,  Sparking compliance  Of a sort; the catalyst  For neutral acquiescence    In which the Victim and the Critic Are together absolved  By the disappointing fact They were both at fault...

Footnotes1 Is the dark side of the moon still a thing?  Or, did science already explain it?2  Let’s imagine3 it remains a mystery, and seek it together –  Exploring the concept that ideas still matter,  and the cosmos isn’t yet reduced to a textbook4 blurb. Then, we can pretend textbooks are still a thing, too. --- 1. “a note of reference, explanation, or comment usually placed below the text on a printed page”a. 2. “we now know that the Moon orbits Earth, and they both orbit

Main character of my own life, watching the world go by front seat "I" spelled with a capital letter in English, I learned it watching cartoons Why was I given this life? Why was anyone given life? Sometimes I catch myself adding flourish and new details Making it more interesting and magical than it really is I believe in God because I want to I want to think there is more than just this A name in city records that will be damaged by water-leaking ceilings A name written ins

It’s raining The water droplets are nothing but a calm, soothing hug that envelopes my body It’ll all be alright  it whispers, as if it has any idea what’s going through my head I wish I knew too, let me in on this secret that you’re hiding from me It’s a cacophony of voices that aren’t my own, choking whatever piece of me I have left and leaving the corpse of my brain out to dry It’s raining The rain makes me think of nothing or everything at all My tears are like the rain,

Jack received a package on the night of his graduation. It was from his brother, Gabriel — he lived too far away.  He opened the package with a razor and unpacked it onto the table. A hologram emitter: this small circular thing. Similar to a fire alarm or a hockey puck.  He took the device and attached it to the wall. It gave a small whistle as it received its signal, and the little machine came to life.  Jack’s phone whistled too, and so he took it up: “Gabriel?” “Alrigh

Brick didn’t remember falling asleep by the motel pool. When he awoke, he sorely regretted it. As he stirred on the plastic lounge chair, he felt miserable. Placing a hand on his stomach made him wince. “Oh no,” he groaned. After all the times he warned his daughter about using sunscreen, Brick made the mistake of napping under the blazing July sun with no protection. His chest, arms, and legs were as bright red like his hair. “Terrific,” Brick muttered to himself. “Just te

Lucy stepped on an ancient landmine outside Girvetz Hall. I talked to her Brother, Suvin, about it while we were on the beach, and Lucy was treated in the aid center. “If it had been one of those new ones, I’m not sure there would be any Lucy left.” He said. Across the sea, the single oil platform stood proud and sturdy, impressing us from miles off the coast. The green, littered waves came lazily ashore in a way that almost made them look safe. We continued down the bea

That mossy stone there, man-shaped with such care, blindly, it stares at me, and everyone else. Proud gaze, unaware,  eroding green eyes and hair, yet somehow it stares, returned gazes for 300 years. And now it sits here: a stone’s new home. Uncertain ancient leer, frequented, and alone, this spectacle is skeptical of ever going home to that stone dead carver, that human he calls father, long buried under fodder who shaped him at such cost, sunken and decayed like  me in one

thick room of tension  it could be cut with a plastic butter knife  that’s how abundant it is.  my eyes avert themselves from the glare of the sun those yellow, jaundiced eyes,  looking in my soul precisely.  intensity intensifies in the room that we occupy while the consideration of taking myself out of this equation dances through my mind.

"Occluded Vessel" I collapse at the plinth sagging over the edge, a monolith knowing I can’t gulp down anymore tonight, knowing I ingested too much, spoors of spirits dispersed in the dusk like musk tracks I sip the sky admiring its lush. How will I huff my way over the hydrospheres as though I am on a plane in the captain’s pit playing with the buttons as though there is no consequence. Like I tapped the wine stains on your oxford, as though they could extend like branches i