Prof: You Use Some Awkward Phrasing In This Sentence Here

changed theme and icon. hoping to post more consistently, it’s been a dense year folks. 

For the game: Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman

Food: Zucchini bread someone you care about made but burned a little

Location: An empty lighthouse on a cliffside that’s starting to lean out over the tide. 

Thank you. 

Send me a book title in an ask and I’ll reply with a food and a place I think fit with the piece. 

(Spontaneous Writing Exercise)

big white hair as wide as the night, open with stars, novas of tangled ends, suns streaked  over bangs until fire looks like a plaything next to her eyes, half- parted, so she can only see a pink strip of you and nothing else. the world opens on her like she’s the hinge of a pocket knife, blade-bright  heart, saw-toothing the morning. eat your soft- boiled egg and turn in your wolf for a calmer way of breathing. Molars on a yolk that makes the  plate so yellow that you don’t believe in yellow any longer.  that’s how big that hair is.

                      - C. Essington 

This came a couple days ago, the fourth issue of Bridge Eight, and it’s beautiful and has a story of mine in it and it’s lovely to have a physical copy of.

Downstream

five fingers stop for the night on a collarbone — pausing like rainwater, the tips pool, and, as round as worlds, they rest like dewdrops. just like dew drops.

dappling over the calcium, the five lucid puddles piano at my skin. the music tunnels inward, bodiless with silence, ghosting sixteenth notes into my synapses.

the weight is liquid, the pressing seeps, I look down through each separate clot of skin and river and see a crush of orange leaves sinking into my chest.

I circle the wrist and uproot its pouring. the feeling prickles off me the same way a boiling pot loses teeth when tugged off the stove.

                               - C. Essington

              - C. Essington

Not quite a question--I wasn't sure how else to reach out. I just read your story from Hika: Limbo and Other Party Games? Its been on my shelf for ages, I reached for it by happy accident. Desperate to focus on anything but finals, maybe. Usually I'd start a new paragraph here. Tends to be my style. I'm running out of words though, so: I guess I just wanted to thank you. I hope someday I can learn to lose as beautifully as you have. In the meantime, I've pasted it in my notebook. Hope thats ok.

Agh I love hearing from people at Kenyon and I’m honored that you put it in your notebook, that’s amazing. I hope you can gain beautifully! Your reading and caring about it is so appreciated so thank you as well! I hope your finals go well and you get to the other side in a hug of summer that lets you relax. 

Toad-Stomach

a cream-with-mushrooms color; ducked, formless, curtaining an animal that isn’t too much more than a way of moving cold blood in and out of brain.  the whole little inch hints at mud and comfort and the paper-thick line between guts and ground.

- c. essington 

“Ham and Starch” a short story by Claire Oleson

Slowly, with her voice pointed down towards the snow, she starts. “That we aren’t for the morning/ that we aren’t for house-fires./ That if you lit a match in your basement/ and it caught on/ and g…

I’ve had a short story published on the literary blog, The Whale.

“Ham and Starch” a short story by Claire Oleson

Slowly, with her voice pointed down towards the snow, she starts. “That we aren’t for the morning/ that we aren’t for house-fires./ That if you lit a match in your basement/ and it caught on/ and g…

I’ve had a short story published on the literary blog, The Whale.