WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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It’s a terrible road to be running on, I know. The shoulder is gravelly and uneven. Trash is strewn about from the nearby dump. I normally don’t run on roads…
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WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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* * * guess it fell from the tree? or maybe it had a heart attack, a sudden loss of its will to sing without an audience. his electric callouses…
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* * * Barred Owl Under my curved wings, the dusk. You flinch from these shadows I inhabit. Below me, scurries, the bright eyes of prey. Then my fine talons…
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Lessons I’ve Learned From a Woodpecker: Save your brain Get to work Be loving Be free I had a few concussions when I was younger. I feel like we are…
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I. They had all disappeared before I arrived. Death. Distance. Disconnection. And discontent. Mother said her mum jubilated when she conceived me. But earth had taken her in, folding…
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WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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My grandmother died the day I went to the dentist. My dad called me right as I was putting on some coffee. In three days, I was sitting in an…
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Image Credit: Jesse Shofner Last winter, your father asked if “queer” was still a slur. He asked this carefully, as he always does when it comes to your sexuality.…
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The family lore is repeated over and over. It becomes so familiar memory mixes with imagination to fill in the spaces. My sister, Maria, loved too much. Here lies Mr.…
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WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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* * * First it was the birds, but it may as well have started in the dirt, with the bugs, or out in the fields, the pests rooting stalk-side.…
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I scrawl snippets of my life onto scraps of paper and tuck them between the covers of my unwritten books. How will I spin these muddled bits of memory into…
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