JupiterMoon
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My stories
onionskin
onionskin everything is paper. delicate, and easily torn to shreds. i catch myself on the sharp edges of other people, and tear. there are rips...
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- 907 reads
40 to the sky
40 to the sky 40 to the sky, is how buckled metal shines. wrenched loose by the wind, the sad rains of January have turned this into an altogether...
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- 1095 reads
police tape
police tape the park, private cornered with the flicker tape of Monday morning murder. felled by cold hands, I see no police stood as rocks. only the...
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- 424 reads
where the hearses be
where the hearses be hunched, driver-less, exhausts smoke in the break of day. they huddle beetle black, emptied of silent passengers. they wait for...
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- 1116 reads
and again secret
and again secret for the second time this year, i am loved, in secret. as turbines melted never made snow angels, leaving our sky sad and serrated,...
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- 430 reads