by Jess Earl Mama told me that thunder is just the sound of angels bowling. The angel outside my window doesn’t have hands but maybe it just can’t bowl, like how Katie can’t eat peanut butter. The angel doesn’t look like the ones in Mama’s paintings; it looks like a…
by Ilari Pass Anyone can say that they’re happy, but not everyone can say that they’re content. To believe the mind is not a snake, to accept the hidden thump of the heart, to rush without hesitation—this is Eden.
by Ilari Pass Dawn, the sun sliding above the mountains. The fog floats on top of the lake, morning dew. Everything emerges, fresh and fragrant. Insects burr, the campfire is almost out; hearing its sizzle and whistle means a man can leave. A bird flies, heading to the lake, disappearing…