Trunks shoot fire. Crocodiles pierce through you. Snails bite and retreat to their shells. (If only you returned to your son’s arms.) Frogs barf copies of themselves. You start to realize you’ll never...

I have a difficult relationship with the day. But bein’ surrounded by friends like this is just what I’ve always wanted. I feel like I could be better about writing to my parents, though.

I think about the game I paused my avatar guided by a map waypoint for a side quest I’m supposed to kill a local warlord to stop his reign of terror my reward, increased experience points a new gun

The strokes quickened—Frantic now. Details skimmed. Splotches of red. The dicing was raw. Tap tap tap— That’s how the skin was pierced. That’s why the strokes refused to dry.

we drop into one of the void spaces / so common in these games / only to land in the bottomless dark / in a place / both within and outside the game / where true life / twinkles out of reach / resembl...

I used to crouch, run electricity through my body too, so, no one could reach the purple parts of my visibly green skin. Ask anyone who tried to love me before I turned twenty-five.

i say i am waiting for my uncles to finish paintballing in the adventure park out back they are just over there my many uncles their many guns

Your absence is a precinct. I question it daily. It offers no statements, Only glass, fogged. A radiator hums low socialism.

Do you alone recall folding through houses like hands on a clock, how your bones shrank into the space between tatami and floor? The wife wets her hands with daikon, waits for the day you unlearn th...

Memory wouldn’t work anymore: too much war, or school, or new names Taking up space where our laughter used to hide-and-seek each other. And the lighthouse? It remains beside the ruins of the o...

And then we're off to the races, and it's been a long tour in America, year after year of learning to read between the lines of her well-sold dreams — shopping malls! Highways! Cop shows! Liberty and ...

When I tell you I cried, I mean that solanums are the largest genus in the family Solanacae, the nightshades, flowering plants both beautiful and dangerous, as we learn many things are—I am reminded, ...

“I tried to uninstall consciousness,” Jim muttered, his eyes flat—rendered without specular mapping, glassy from frame-rate decay. “Didn’t take.” He sounded like someone who had run too many diagnosti...

My cousin calls The Gold Saucer the in-game casino, and I think back to the backseat, en route to Vegas, sandwiched between her and her brother, my shoulders aching.