Piss on the ashes of the Oval Office if it feels safe. Topple the archaic statues, Watch them sink under ice cold lakes. Go.

A legend tells you how to read a map. Not where you’ll trip and sprain your ankle, though...

There blows an ill wind where reality & contradictions converge, the wind that warns us not to dwell in the past, but to pay attention...

Let us not postpone the intent of our dreams. We’ve been chasing It so long

Okay. I accept that. I give up on trying to stay on the outside. So I’m here today to claim the title Vampire-American. I wear it proudly.

His eyes returned to the serpent. All of his plans, he ruminated, the remaining years with Bev, the Florida home now under contract...

[Rather] than leaving these spaces feeling that the traumatic event has been adequately addressed, [a trauma metaphysic remains].

For many, words are sacrosanct only insofar as they are bluntly instrumental.  They must be instantly efficacious, dense as a rock...

Elaina Erola won the Maria Spiridonova Remembered Writing Contest with her essay "What Their Spirits Know," but check out the runners-up!

and she sends me videos of a possum eating as if i am not right here. her very own possum

from my tooth and claw warren where only truth rotates, dripping as a libertine fueled by Romanticism from my extending canines

The elite decide who and how many will be remembered, and who and how many will be forgotten. 

The place for Native American women is treacherous. We no longer live on the battlefield fighting our enemies, but...

When I allow my sandaled left foot to feel the dirt as I replant the Mexican petunias, hoping against hope and yet...

There was a blur of evening gowns and contestants being invited to talk insipidly about their roots and how long they’d been undead...

A suit case full of money. A superstar contract. A main event. A five-pound shine associated with heavyweight gold.

Upholding principles then becomes integral to BDSM as it is part of social reality. This immediately indicts sadism as being open-ended...

He sprints to the checkout, breathless. 'About the thing,' he gasps. The girl hands over the Spy Kit Elite. His son's Christmas wish.

on stony floors, of terracotta hue, as the tallow bleeds in spines of white light, the crook-necked pores of our pressed skin shiver...

SUDDENLY i am a childless ewe with a running breast– my body knows something i cannot...