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Terra Firma.

These vents of ocean that I seal up, often, are what’s made this room inside me dark and folded over. Smut steeps, clamped into shapes from my fist, and the light hue in the corner only catches at the golden cow when I watch carelessly. If I flip the latch and the metal inlet swings … Continue reading


Navy SEALs.

At the moment, I am staring out the car window at the north shore in Duluth and mindlessly eating kettle corn out of a bag that I haphazardly opened in a rush before we left for our trip. Now the bag is torn vertically down the middle, and pieces of pocorn are popping out of … Continue reading