There will be no picking of magnolia blossoms. Feel free to pick Black-Eyed Susans, chicory, and other wild perennials at will, should you find them growing on the grounds.
There will be no picking of magnolia blossoms. Feel free to pick Black-Eyed Susans, chicory, and other wild perennials at will, should you find them growing on the grounds.
Do you dream in clipped heartland vowels or a long southern drawl? When you dream of lakes and rivers, can you see clear through the blue to the sandy bottom?
Just outside the circle, the fan oscillates in a lazy circle, the fronds of the palm plant fanning us in its wake. Someone stands to open the garage door and we listen as night drifts in.
As a child, Sarah had been convinced that there had in fact never been such a thing as dinosaurs and that the archaeologists and paleontologists had somehow gotten it all terribly wrong.
Do you trust your neighbors? Do you agree that nature is the domain of spirits and deities? Is the river nearest your home polluted? Do wild animals affect your life? How much do you pay for rice?
I’m really sorry I skipped my in-school suspension to walk around downtown and smoke cigarettes. I’m just so into exploring cigarettes right now – I think they’re part of my process, you know? Like, the initial fire and then the slow burn and then the broken, dirty stub – I think for sure there’s a metaphor in there, I just don’t what it is yet.
Above me is a map of the world. Australia sits sweetly above my head in camellia pink, and beside me a jade plant pushes its dozens of green palms into the sugared air.
...it seemed blasphemous somehow, thinking about Jesus as a toddler, or worse, a baby in diapers. But, Ashley supposed, he must’ve been one once, right? She had never thought much past the infant in the manger bit, like somehow in her mind Jesus went from infant to grown man to savior on the cross, but of course it couldn’t have happened like that, even if Jesus was a miracle.
My dad says if you knew what a bullet did to a body after it entered the skin, you’d never pick up another gun.
Once upon a time there was a green bike and it was parked all alone next to a building.
People don’t come to a psychic because they want to know the truth. They don’t even come to a psychic because they want to know the future. They come because they want to be listened to.
You didn’t know it then, but you made me to tell a singular story of this land and I am telling it: we are all, all of us, mad and solemn and desperate in our insistence on being here at all.
