

ants carrying tiny organs, bits and pieces, livers lips arms gall bladders into the pall building something to seal away
Just last month, over two thousand viewers logged in to watch the live feed: four identical roads, crossing each other at this intersection and then branching out toward the different corners of the world like dirt-beaten tentacles.
“to those who fell…and those who are still falling.”
A fragmented tale of a teenager tormented by receiving a cursed image in their DMs.
Grief as a conduit for passage beyond the veil, always returning us to life.
Two collections of poetry on grief.
An envelope opened, photos scattered on the table—all that remains of a prior life.
The poetic conjuring of a backwoods haruspex guiding us into the charged experience of encounters with hanging animal corpses, forbidding landmarks, and crumbling ruins deep in the forest.
A notebook left on a bedroom floor, mechanically pinched up and deposited in a numbered plastic baggie by a uniformed man.
[Man]will know his fault by the sun which stands in fiery witness and the wind which breathes its judgement in the final silence of the world.
Drawings of tender, violent, chivalric male intimacy.
An anthropomorphic swan who dreams of flight finds a sequestered community of “adult drawers” who attempt to help her realize her dream.