One of the essential qualities of my mind has always been an inability to distinguish between “being” and “being with.” I wanted to play with girls, and hence decided, age eight, that I wanted to be a girl. Why is it, I asked myself and the sky, as I continued down Grand Street, that the current trans debate focuses so much on trans women in sports? Rather than on, say, sports?
(nonfiction)
He moved close enough to whiff my aftershave. Our eyes met before he grimaced.
(fiction)
It’s while waiting for the light at the corner of Twenty-eighth and Sixth Avenue that you first hear it: a soft hissing sound.
(fiction)
How could / the hand’s reflexive twitch undo centuries of survival? / Something as simple as an approaching outlier of thunder / cause devastation to a thing come so far?
(poetry)
Sunbeams drop and scatter / like shrapnel across bald pavingstones asizzle / in the dust of your passing.
(poetry)
With boys comes a lot of stress. You worry about how you can buy him his own place, or you worry about who he’ll bring into your house.
(fiction)
“I’m a big fan of letting people enjoy things,” a Twitter user named Sherryis washingherhands…
For what do I need / this beautiful key? (poetry)
Another Chicago Magazine 