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 Published Work


“After the End” in Goblin Fruit,  Winter 2014 issue

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“There are no scarlet lips bleeding

promises here, no lifeline

tresses rippling down

tower walls…”


“Blackbird” in The Portland Review, Fall 2013 issue

“We grew
from the plowed earth, two women
in a field of women with crimson poppy eyes,
knowing the small things that disappear
in daylight…”


“The Truth of Grapes” (audio version) in Bound Off Podcast, Issue 89

She folds her legs under her—boot heels to thighs, an awkward kind of comfort. It adds four inches to her sitting height, and her bare spine becomes a lightning rod for short flickering glances and a few bold stares. The tiny white lights come back into focus, spin from the trees and circle her hair like luminescent fireflies. The waitress hovers on the edge of the candlelight.”


“Seeing in Reverse” in Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Issue 6, page 2

“Beyond my windshield the trees layer away into the fog, a kirigami landscape in diminishing shades of gray.   I am suspended in motion, heading home…”


“The Bellwether” in Plasma Frequency, April/May 2013 (out of print, e-pub available here.)

“All night she dreamed of the wether’s bell. The sound threaded in and out of her sleep, sometimes as far away as the barn, sometimes as close as her bedroom window. She dreamed of the flock creeping … creeping … up through the shifting mist, pulling it behind them up the dark drive, smothering the house.”


“Sweetest Fruit” in  Shadow Road Quarterly, Summer Issue 2012 (journal now defunct)

“But now he’s laughing
great gasping belly laughs,
toes burrowing into sticky pomace,
heels grinding seeds into the rich earth,
tart and tang of vinegar rising,
his feet a blur in the slant sunshine.”


“The Bathhouse at Carson Hot Springs” in Poetry Quarterly, Fall 2011, page 59-62 (print journal)

“…and you go like a lamb in threadbare fleece
to the back room where cots line the walls
north and south,

where rows of cocooned women
steep in humid dreams,
waiting to mature into something more
or less useful…”


“A Week From Last Sunday” in Flashquake, Spring 2011, page 14 (print journal, now defunct)

“Monday I ease warm eggs from beneath sleepy hens,
gather a kitchen bouquet of chive blossoms
and fold for you an omelet of longing and goat cheese…”


“Dusk Swim” in LingerFiction, January 2011 (journal now defunct)

“That rock has an interesting shape in the dimming light. It’s flat on top, but very organic, and I imagine that it might at any time animate and push off through the water toward me, leaving a wide “v” of a wake. It might submerge at ten yards off, disappearing into the lake never to be seen again. Or it might resurface right beneath me, lifting me completely out of the water, a shivering human offering to its dark and stony gods…”