Trump should have to fight this war if he wants it Netanyahu should be in Gaza Instead of his king bed in Jerusalem They can soar into battle with flags Knotted around their necks Swooshing behind them like capes Red, white, and blue fluttering in smoky air Political superheroes, Minus the heroism Super heinous Super horrific Super hungry (for other men's sons) Trump’s sons can fight this war Don Jr. and Eric look broad shouldered enough They’ve hunted endangered leopards

(Photo by Sergey Causelove) You are here even though you’ve been gone for four days. You swim up my fallopian tubes. You wait inside me patiently, eager for an egg to release so you can have a meeting—significant in its essence, that joined endeavor for life. In a flurry of fuzzy static, we came at the same time—bodies at the edge of disappearance. I felt your heat spread through me, into my loose arms and down racy fingertips. The stars lurched as our bodies ascended, then

I used to see prayer as something beneficial for others, but not for me. I was too bad, too wild, too sinful for it. I also did not possess the humility to get down on my knees. It felt like begging. Begging to something I was not sure existed or even cared for me. It looked like groveling for help. It looked like wishing some divine hand would poke out of the sky and reach down and drag me from the gutter. My romantic relationship opened me to prayer. I guess that's what lov

Part of being an artist is the drudgery of sitting at the desk repetitively, especially when the well of imagination feels dried up. In these mental blocks, there’s an inclination to hit fast forward. There’s time travel into the sparkly future where the work’s in full form and neatly tied up. But the result can only fall into one’s lap when one is positioned for the fall. There are no short cuts, yet the restless mind wants them. The ego wants the solution to come faster.

Alina monkey climbs up the waterfall fully naked. She hoists herself over rocks draped in moss with the agility of an animal in home terrain. Her ass glistens with speckles of water, iridescent and shining. Her back’s a long dock— sturdy. She belongs to this moment of crisp sky, glassy stones, and levitating dragonflies. She’s naturalized to the world around her. She stoops down to examine a red veiny leaf. She’s bent right over me, and I cannot help but look up.