Interdimensional Losers
On Sunday he comes to your door with a dead bat and marigolds in an old violin case. You groan inwardly (hasn’t he found a place
A Bit of Neural Interference in the Collective Unconsciousness
On a windy autumn night of my childhood, I dreamed that a tall young man opened a door in a tree for me. A dim blue
Supermarket of the Damned
Image by Scragz
When Raymond died in a tragic avocado toast accident, he discovered that his assumptions about the
Composting for Poets
When I was fourteen, I asked my mom about hippies.
“Mom, were you a hippie in the sixties?”
She didn’t
Space Witch
She lounges, nude, in the long window seat, long legs draped over velvet cushions threaded with silver. The