the dog, the dog, he’s at it again
prose poetry and fiction
the glory
rita
afterimage
hole
fantasma
children of the lamia
pink hearts made of pig skin
dear johanna,
birmingham, 1977. you’re finally free, listening to the new procol harum’s album in the back of a van, high on hash brownies, watching some drunk punks fighting over a piece of burger from the trash. here’s what you’re thinking of:
little march of déconstruction
on a happy note
so they plowed the virgin soil of carthage
right after a successful game of *kottabos*, a man drops dead out of boredom
breakfast
levante blue
zetsu