Poem: Team of Foxes

In poem on 09/17/2015 at 18:50

Somewhere green we met —
out of reach and shit.
Something smells like grass,
summer always happened fast.

A band of foxes sent
on the diamond they descend.
Driven mad with their disease,
stole your daughter through the trees.

Will you chase me?
Before all of this collapse.
Will you race me?
(Scar pink, moth black.)

You forgot your daddy’s joke
though you often smell like smoke.
Stood me up in Long Beach —
you were such a Georgia peach.

Will you chase me? Will you race me there?

The Flower Addict

In Uncategorized on 08/13/2015 at 17:50

Read now: “The Flower Addict”

Eunoia Review

The metal schema showed under the white nursery sheet like a latticed network of bones. Damp families of plants and difficult-to-grow vegetables lined the rows, a jungle in a sock, life outside the nursery foggy and indistinct. “So this where we found him here,” said Mr. Tracy, gesturing to no special place. A bed of flowers appeared turned over, hills of loam and green petals that looked like dollar bills. “An animal coming indoors like that, walking in on him gardening, bizarre. Peter, he liked the nursery. Well, anyway.”

Pete (Petros Arthurs IV, officially, named after his father’s father’s father) hadn’t bothered to put on shoes that morning. Stood there on the soil…kind of cool, early evening in just a T-shirt and shorts. His grandfather, a man he’d never met before in his life, had been torn to pieces just over there, two weeks prior. “But he looked good, didn’t…

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Fiction: “Under the Wormwood”

In Uncategorized on 05/16/2015 at 01:31

I’ve been toying with ideas on how to use photographs and original illustrations to tell stories. Over at Contra World I’ve been collecting images for character and setting inspiration, and I recently put together a rough outline of my idea. Nothing special, and no original artwork yet, but here you go:

stahr magazine

Here is another clip from the fantasy novel/short story collection-hybrid I plan to be finished with by summer’s end despite mounting evidence that I will also be looking for a new apartment and moving to Napa midway through. The associated stress is, in part, why I have chosen to share this piece.

I am also just shy of my 100th follower; how exciting!

This is a brief scene that will serve as the collection’s prologue. It needs a bit of refining but this is more or less how the first six pages of the book will look.

“Under the Wormwood”
Ino struggled the last leg of the hill, wheezing through thick swarms of wormwood, shrugging off her sullen mounts with a gasp. Mago and Ajori shouldered their packs, knotted the old silver stag to one of the bonelike branches, and clambered onto the rocky outcrop overlooking the valley. Mago tried…

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