I followed our moving van over Boston's Tobin Bridge from Gloucester, Massachusetts. I was newly divorced; my four-year-old boy was belted into his car...
1. Black
When oil first entered my consciousness it was black as a bridge jerry-rigged and rusted, held together with heat-stained paint that bubbled. The...
How to know your phlegm: text
the kettle, the firing, the burns.
Friday morning, I dig through
an overturned square. We find
purple felt after mistaking it
for a...
