“The fear that all this will end. The fear that it won’t.” - Rae Armantrout...

Translation of ¿Qué les queda a los jóvenes? by Mario Benedetti...

On the way home, we drove in silence sinking into the shadows of movement, carved from the moonlight of unsung promises...

she popped strawberries onto her fingers, gobbled them off, pop pop pop pop pop...

the peach settled in my palm, grass nipped my ankles, pink socks pulled down...

Stepping up to the edge, I look down...