Find me
in the
seams
of all
broken
things

A girl runs away from home, hoping to see her boyfriend. It’s the middle of the night. She gets in a car with a stranger. They share a beer and things get weird. She jumps […]
Lonely bulb
Moonbeam beacon
Cascades
On the stage
Pitch black
i befriended a fruit fly once,
with body black, and bending knees.
knowing secrets of the universe, hence
it told me how to live in peace.
I’ve always thought redemptions should come in the form of damp little castles.
My mother wanted things.
The wind pulls a crystal from my eye
black hands/pure gold/interstellar bodies
would expose intoxicants under mama’s pulsing scales
our palms pulping blue as homage, farewells.
I am too bothered to see correctly
As the 12th Street Journal‘s 2o15 print submission deadline (Nov.15th) draws near, the staff has been engaging with the New School community in a variety of ways—not excluding creativity tarot readings by our managing editor, Charlotte […]