Publications & Achievements
No Skin Included.
Break open the branch. Inside-- there is lime and tree foam. Like marrow. The white liquid that illuminates the skin, full of leaves and freshly-plucked strawberries. Like dawn, opening: he captures this about her in a painting, surrounds her with blood oranges,...
Analecta Publication
Saturday evening, in conjunction with Jim Daniels' reading, was the IU South Bend student writing awards and the first reveal of the 2012 Analecta. Since I was unable to attend, I just picked up my copy, and I've spent the past hour or so flipping through it, reading...
The Silent Film
In this dream, I have lost you, and suddenly my heart has turned and I am dreaming about a man who has died. In his fury, he cut open his hands. I become the girl who can see him, can see the blood and the way it looks like a family of birds, red crows, with eyes that...
A Poem–different from my usual work
SPRING MORNING It is without a word that you follow me outside like a lumbering shadow. We reach the sidewalk, our steps matching. Wind tangles in my hair as we pass apartment doorways and windows. It is when we see the shadows of two people making love through an...
When He Asked Her to Turn Him into a Poem
She removed his shirt and pushed him into the moonlight. He became all silvery skin. And so she painted him—deep black covered portions of his arms, his hands, his face, until finally she moved him out of the moonlight. He disappeared, except for a hand here, a limb...
Nights that Dreamed Her Open
There was a morning when she opened herself to horses--- it was a sort of release, the wind and soft petals under her toes. She waited out in the field, their bodies lingering off on the horizon. They looked black against the sun, manes twisting, all muscle. She...
All Memory
It was late, and the sky had long past burst and cleared into stars when it ran from the trees, like a mass, illuminated into white and fur in the headlights. Its eyes were like two pearls. I watched as it tumbled away into the darkness, that broken filament, and I...
Near the End of It
As I move through this evening, I am reminded of you. During the winter which beat my skin raw, we tried to be someone older. We attempted to speak like birds, all sound in the early morning glow, the pink dew and raw strawberries. You became all hands, you like a...
Poem of the Day & Reading Posts
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Book Reviews & Author Interviews
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Past Literary Events
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