Central characters Mom, elderly, experiencing dementia, approaching the end of life, is generally in a wheelchair or hospital bed throughout. Greg, her son, the narrator, speaks directly about his experiences with Mom (“narrating”), and sometimes becomes an active part of the vignettes he’s describing (“in
A windowless room. A woman. Hair a bit unbrushed. In need of a wash. Hugs a cardigan around herself and shifts in her seat like she’s waiting for someone else to come into the room. Only she’s not, and they never do. She has the
CHARACTERS PRINCESS — 20s-30s. A fairytale princess whose gotten her every wish her whole life. FROG — 20s-30s. Green, goggle-eyed, flippers. Male or female.MOTHER GOOSE — Everybody’s grandmother. PRINCESS — 20s-30s. A fairytale princess whose gotten her every wish her whole life. FROG — 20s-30s.
I’m the most cowboy folk I know out of Durango boots, absent faded- bronze Ariat hat (1). I feel myself best as FL4K (2), the non-binary automatonic star of the loot-&-shoot galaxy. They command creatures of the waste lands, a glimmer of unforgiveness in their
1. Dead Mike from CB4 standing in front of a liberation flag with raised fist, wearing an Ankara cap whilst rapping, “I’M BLACK Y’ALL. AND I’M BLACK Y’ALL. AND I’M BLACKER THAN BLACK, AND I’M BLACK Y’ALL.” 2. Titus Andronicus shrugging his shoulders and saying,
RIP the 163 orcas who have died in captivity at marine parks. No one knows what plays in the mind’s dark theater, when ropeshold you afloat at the end. What song-worm hums a motionless whale body: mating trills, eager tenor of takeaway ships, or mother’s cries because mothers cry like animals
i.Palm trees stand at attention againstthe haze-filtered sky perfectly blackened in purple. On a screen I hold in the palm of my hands, I watch the palmsin my sister’s city bow humbly to Irma’s force. I nurse a glass of wine as she savors
stillness is a blessing. the quiet rests & unrests. pleasure muses in sunlight & sometimes raindrops. laughter bends & stretches. a bird, a wind chime. dancing heals the soul. i’ve never cried, never danced. so much beauty in sorrow. it’s hard to breathe without breaking
We should call it Gay Beachagain, like they did in the seventieswhen your mother spent summers selling sandwiches from a cooler. Hiland Dale’s made tuna for sun-kissed men kissing men who poured out of The Friendship into daylighthungry and drunk. Ducked belowthe echoing underpass lit
When you said just chop a clove of garlic and swallow it like a pill in response to my bronchitis, it wasn’t about bootstraps and pulling at them or mistrusting the doctors even though you did mistrust them. It was about that oasis each of us must find