I can hear it. I don't look back, but I can hear it. A giant wave crests behind me. The sound deafens like the roaring of a jet engine. The wave unseen forces me down and I feel my lungs filling with black water...

"Fear of Water," WAX Issue #2, Fall Winter 2012

Tallboys suited up in paper bags are plentiful. Wisps of smoke from casually attended cigarettes form thick clouds in the humidity. Conditions render the late play into a test of endurance.

"Hardcourt Hardcore," Norman Einstein's Normanthology, 2012

You've probably / never heard / of Los Angeles, / California. Still it's not just another / shit town in / a shit desert on a shit stretch of / highway. Things happen / here.

"Los Angeles, California," They N.4, August 2012

An envelope was licked. / No, not licked, / but she peeled back the plastic strip / then smoothed the chaste adhesive, / firmly and with intent, / against the envelope's steady fibers, / sealing the deal.

"Aren't You Happy to be Alive?," They N.3, September 2011

When snow meets salt, we are left with neither, just residue, like the residue under my window-pressed palm. Heaven-sent is now simply a piece of shit, stuck to the cold window of a dimmed and dead Hollywood Video.

"N/A," The Highlights XV, 2011/03/11