“Stupid Milk”: a poem (2021) first published in Survivor Lit (2021) & forthcoming in full-length manuscript, Experiments in Quietus (Really Serious Literature, 2023)

curdle in within myself like
some homespun kiss of death
spoiled milk shriveled biochemical bitch
shadows on skin become tombs
why am I still here

when there are poisons to
be made toxins to be
consumed at discretion reckless abandonment
contamination this is my consideration
abstract this abstract that abstract

where flesh heals over again

all the polish in the
world cannot make scars go
away cannot make scars go
away the non-rhythmic heart is
despaired interred whimpering to plunge

“Viridian:” a short story (2021) inspired by language in Hoa Nguyen’s collection, Red Juice, & first published in Intangible Magazine’s 2nd Issue, “Kalopsia” (2021)

Content Warnings: rape, human/animal abuse/cruelty, violence, C-PTSD, self-harm


In the woods, it rained cat placenta. As the snow scorched to age[d] water wave[s], Viridian’s famous, feathered cilantro specimen drowned to extinction.

During this particular monsoon, the soil had become more enriched than ever, but with what, the experts were unsure. The botanists deemed the place flooded beyond repair, condemned it, and moved on, never to return. They did not know of The Mother who resided there, nor did she know of them. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference either way.

Deep in the woods, The Mother stood alone. She was the type who was always noting things, the kind who always had to know everything. Even before it became endangered, she had always doted over the cilantro plant more than any person before her. A phantom, remnant of the pet chicken she had loved as a child before it was slaughtered and ground to bits before her very eyes, was the one who informed her of its extinction. Tremendously devastated by the demise of her favorite herb, she realized the implications of mortality, gorged her brain from her skull, and cast it to the ground. She was done suffering. Still, The Mother couldn’t help but observe how reluctantly the useless thing slithered down, or how the ancient oaks trembled as they watched this abomination unfold before them.


Excited to announce that my piece, titled “Transcript of the Extraterrestrial: English Translation by SPECIMEN #@~//212, 888, 060, 073” is the runner-up for the Baby Teeth Arts 2022 Black-Out Poetry Contest! 🥺🫀✨⭐️👾

While there are numerous ways to read this little sci-fi/pataphysical report of mine, here’s the version I went with for the contest! ⬇️