“Is Inside Is Outside,” a short story published in Waxwing #14.
Two poems in Thirteen Myna Birds, a zine that features 13 pieces at any given time. Since the pieces disappear as new poems are published, here is a screenshot with the text of the poems below:
What’s Wrong with the Ghost
I don’t know what’s wrong with the ghost
that it haunts me by day
while night crowds into my throat
in a panic
Moths batter themselves against the tent
protesting the nylon
as I would flail for the moon on their side
At home upstairs the furniture moves around
but no one is there
Here
the light
in a circle on the grass is ancient
See how it laps the stones at its edges
as if drinking from the next world
Why the ghost left my body
is I suppose the same reason I have
myself
April 15, 2020
The black handles of my grandmother’s scissors
clipped the daylight from my eyes
led a thousand strange ways the horse
pulling our
The morning air filled with breath and coffee
and a bird with news
all too bright for the time of
The skin on my forehead is tired
A tree finally grew from the improbable
burial of my father’s peach pits
The salty turquoise of antarctic shelves
lurching over our
Future if it were a person would wear
a wetsuit
or a burned suit
Tomorrow another mask
Everyone I’ve ever known who’s died has