by Junpei Tarashi | Jul 17, 2021 | 2021, July, Poetry
Flying by Maggie Swofford https://www.agapanthuscollective.com.dream.website/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/Maggie-Swofford.mp3 I. It’s normal to see only darkness when you look out an airplane window on a winter evening. It’s normal to think about pulling away and...
by Junpei Tarashi | Jul 1, 2021 | 2021, Flash Fiction, July
Every girl in junior school knows that one must never, under any circumstances, touch the door handle to the girls’ toilets. It is common knowledge that long ago a girl rubbed her fanny on it. It will forever hold ‘the lurgy’, which will be transferred from...
by Junpei Tarashi | Jun 9, 2021 | 2021, June, Poetry
“to breathe is a fraud” [this is an unbosomed secret, a chaperone’s murmuring parable] — “it is a gift, or fairly like it. . . with a gleam: mint and pristine”, a celibate I assume. it is a virtuous reproach deposed from gods and...
by Junpei Tarashi | Jun 8, 2021 | 2021, Flash Fiction, June
Soft Shadows by Adam Chabot https://www.agapanthuscollective.com.dream.website/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Soft-Shadows-Adam-Chabot.mp3 It’s late but Benny and I are sipping Dewar’s and celebrating Dad’s 65th birthday on the deck that overlooks the backyard....
by Junpei Tarashi | Jun 5, 2021 | 2021, June, Other Genres
I read in a book once that neighbors ask each other for cups of sugar, and it is a Sunday afternoon, and I have nothing else going on, so I shrug into my jacket and head out my door. It is too warm for my jacket, a hardy green thing that’s...
