by Kashawn Taylor no longer can i surviveon bitter caffeine and self-hatred toppedwith old-fashioned determination sprinkleskeenly aware that my eyes lie, that whati see is / not mewhat I see is not me but i can’t helpthat sometimes eating’s a chore& i’d rather do anythingother than masticate and swallowanything else…
by Jarek Jarvis Morning—gold light saunters through the window— I wake in my old room, where the walls, once sunburst orange, lit my bed ablaze each dawn. I rose bathed in day’s nascent flame. Not a gasp of spark lingers to rouse me. The weather report beats against my door. Dishes chatter in the kitchen….
by Lyz Mancini The man was nodding out, one unlaced sneaker caught at an angle on the frame of a beat-up Chevy Camry, its door pushed wide on its hinges like a starving mouth. His eyes widened as he suddenly pitched forward, clutching a shabby blue worker’s hat to his…
by Kashawn Taylor no longer can i surviveon bitter caffeine and self-hatred toppedwith old-fashioned determination sprinkleskeenly aware that my eyes lie, that whati see is / not mewhat I see is not me but i can’t helpthat sometimes eating’s a chore& i’d rather do anythingother than masticate and swallowanything else…
by Jarek Jarvis Morning—gold light saunters through the window— I wake in my old room, where the walls, once sunburst orange, lit my bed ablaze each dawn. I rose bathed in day’s nascent flame. Not a gasp of spark lingers to rouse me. The weather report beats against my door. Dishes chatter in the kitchen….
by Lyz Mancini The man was nodding out, one unlaced sneaker caught at an angle on the frame of a beat-up Chevy Camry, its door pushed wide on its hinges like a starving mouth. His eyes widened as he suddenly pitched forward, clutching a shabby blue worker’s hat to his…