Under the Window
The grass was wet and the brick of the house felt like ice through my jeans. I had made a habit of it. I wasn't hiding, exactly, but I wasn'
Darren Thomas Taylor
Burned by the Moon
I stayed until it went quiet. Then I crossed back over the street and sat in the dark facing her window.
Notebook
Fragments, notes, and observations from the margins of reading and writing.
Essays
Long-form essays on literature, consciousness, and the written life. More to come.
The Text Written in Flesh
Solenoid is what happens when a writer rejects literature and discovers that the body — its lice, its teeth, its vertiginous scale — was the manuscript all along.