by Junpei Tarashi | Mar 18, 2021 | 2021, Flash Fiction, March
In fifth grade, Helen and I performed a ritual to summon Bloody Mary, and she told me what to do but not why. We watched the mirror in the dark, nothing but a series of trick lines shaping a door we couldn’t open because it was on the other side of the room. I asked...
by Junpei Tarashi | Mar 11, 2021 | 2021, March, Poetry
pale scars pried open, spilled to mold spinning wax – all without...
by Junpei Tarashi | Jan 18, 2021 | 2021, January, Poetry
One shoulder lowered manicured cities arched tender like sea breath we willow fan-like we forestall foam ...
![[Home Travelogues] Episode: Encounters with Stationary Humans](https://www.agapanthuscollective.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Preview-1080x670.jpg)
by Junpei Tarashi | Jan 14, 2021 | 2021, January, Poetry
Homes retreat to humans glued to their notions. Through the highway of roots, they arrive like shade, incubate human eggs that plead, stay till we hatch from stillness. But we never do— human windmills, in anticipation of wind/human hills, in anticipation of snug...
by Junpei Tarashi | Jan 7, 2021 | 2021, Flash Fiction, January
I first met Larry late one Friday night in 1984 and he did not bite me. Larry didn’t even look the type to bite. He was urbane, sophisticated, with what some might call good breeding. Not that I would have told him that. He might have thought I was referring to...
