on hills by park pathwaysand beds of fresh petal,we collapse on our elbowsand tightly scrubbed grass.twist off ourbackpacks, wet with the weightof the sun and the weightof our warm cansof […]
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The Metaworker Literary Magazine
Where great stories are forged
on hills by park pathwaysand beds of fresh petal,we collapse on our elbowsand tightly scrubbed grass.twist off ourbackpacks, wet with the weightof the sun and the weightof our warm cansof […]
Read moreTrain tops tick tackingnext to half melted snow banksholding up the trafficlike everything else.Ruminating on pavementin our collective toyotawhich will always havethose wheezing tires.My face melts at the stop light.Another […]
Read moreNights are essays in loneliness words scrawled in the darknone to be retrieved, I stretch on the bed; disheveled like my hair,twinning with the night.My flesh sinks far below, a […]
Read moreHypertension: Each bus line a grime-filled artery, Each soup line snaking concrete corners, slithering in human filth like wet soil, wet and thick and fast like noseblood; Each […]
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