This one goes out to anyone who’s ever looked up and found themselves alone on the bus. Birds and frogs are perversions of each other, each in perfection exactly what the other isn’t in its itty-bitty bones. Would they, the riders who left you alone like that, without even saying goodbye, without so much as … Continue reading Poetry: Velásquez Bone by Kenny Williams
Lucy believes—the way she trusts gravity, getting old, being lonely—that she does not matter in this world. If she could talk to me, writing her, she could not form the words to ask for help, because she does not grasp the lie at the center of her Self. I want so much to save Lucy, but I don’t know how.