I’m 35 taking a piss outside a purple house in Belle, Missouri. This is our off day. I’m supposed to be asleep. Recovering. But I could...

By Jacob Ian DeCoursey

We cannot lie to angels when it snows.   The ground turns black and white.   She sees ink strokes, left- over paint drowning the canvas...

Three small, brown eggs lay steaming in a bowl, pointing inward at the empty space between. I rest my sight in that subtle gap, to hold...

I step on a crunchy leaf.  And then another.  Moving deeper into the falling forest And the silence is broken  By the crackling rhythm.  ...

I love the winter wind that burns in me, while outside the eaves are powdered down with perfect snow— like an eagle’s skull dried and...

An Anthology of Magic All Around Us Magic lies around every corner; if only we are brave enough to see it. It’s in the stories we tell...

ROI and the Valuation of Friendship in Ancient Times  Maybe your brother-in-law recommended that podcast on the meditations of Marcus...

And you're still sending the same shitty emails laying the same shitty bricks serving the same shitty customers answering to the same...