JAKE

a million gods would kill for this job

& the world rushed into existence

Modern Poetry

The moon.

The End of the Line

It’s to keep you safe, Miss Shayna says.

Late One Night

I rolled out of bed, slowly / Crawled across a potato / chip ridden carpet,

The Pig Died

Who would say this?

Like a Giraffe

“Oh, oh! I see, my dear,”

Reference Call

I step out of my office into the dirty-white hallway beneath the coffin lid of fluorescent lights to take the call.