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Anytime I drifted off I wished to wake up against a cold, silent body.

“I’m not afraid of death; I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”

The trees were a sign from the devil, a warning of the terror to come.

Watch out. That we thought him gone only proves his wily knowledge.

Struggling to find my budget hotel, my stress rose as the sun faded.

“Look down,” I said, comb in hand. “Let me check behind your ears.”

If you didn’t listen you would think it was a cry for help or sympathy.

He was staring at his car like you might a stare at a dog.

I walk and I rest while the eyes of my dead look through my own.

“Ki-Tae the famous pastor,” Jae says to her. “Can you believe life.”

Black wings thrash in trees, then strafe me low, my head their devil.

The King’s affair was supposed to be a secret. But you know how it is.

We shall still cherish in our hearts the memory of those dead.

“I can’t die, I don’t want to die, I love life,” Prince Andrei thought.

They caught those few of us left unclaimed by the one emotion, or the other.

There’s being young and growing old, being here and being gone.

Francis too had his time in the wilderness, lost in the mountains.

“Rev. MacLean’s been stabbed in Oban,” his wife said, her voice thin.

so this god is only wood and holes, a blank, like the moon’s unlit side.

He picked up a fairy disguised as a go-go dancer and brought her home.

Sitting beside a heap of steaming dung I felt in great poetic form.

Will you bless us, who are so in need of blessing? The world tires.

After days of torture in secret prisons, they were about to let him go.

These six-worders work in a strict three-act structure, like screenplays.

Rebecca beheld the sword which was suspended over her people.

It’s all that I have left of “the old country,” as my mother calls it.

When she passes you, her name is a bright blue phrase on your tongue.

My mother’s city and I were both named after an assassinated king.

The interrogator was both man and deity, prophet and god.