Recent Selected Publications

Love from dad

Nominated for a Pushcart Prize

I wish
I was a kangaroo rocketship
& could stow every trans kid in my rocketship pouch
& we’d blast off to wish on every star

Dreamland Anthology | September 2022 | Poetry

The Asshole

Here comes the asshole again. His sphincter is puckered just ready to blow. His hemorrhoids look painful, swollen, like probably he can feel his heartbeat in them. And some of us roll our eyes because here we go again…

Rejection Letters | August 2022 | Fiction

all things merge

Words & Sports Quarterly| September 2022 Collage

Poop from a man

Midwinter, we walk around the block to the corner store to buy ice cream. A pint for you and a pint for me. We will eat all of our ice cream while watching those sexy pirate movies and you will not get bored of the way I sigh and lust after all the main characters. We are celebrating…

HAD | April 2022 | CNF

Fat poem

Nominated for Best of the Net

This is a very fat poem
to celebrate four years
of not getting married (hurrah)
and to commemorate ALL THIS…

Identity Theory | April 2022 | Poetry

Doomscrolling in Novel Form:

A Conversation with John Elizabeth Stintzi

My Volcano has romance, queer becoming, body horror, cli-fi, resistance, and even commercials. Stintzi described the book as “doomscrolling in novel form,” but “with more heart than the algorithm.” I caught up with them on Zoom to talk about what it took for them to pull off this remarkable book…

The Rumpus | March 2022 | Interview

Little Crimes

Finalist for Best of the Net

When we met, you were chasing a chicken down the street just outside the Bronx Zoo. You were wearing hoops and strappy heels. A plain black headwrap kept curls out of your face. You were huffing and puffing, alternating between sweet-talking the stubborn hen and cursing her out….

HAD | October 2020 | Fiction

Queer Visibility

I know it’s starting when my legs begin to prickle like they’ve fallen asleep. They fade away and no one notices. My arms go next, numb from my fingers up to my shoulders. The beer I’ve been drinking falls to the floor…

X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine | October 2020 | Fiction