by Junpei Tarashi | Dec 23, 2021 | 2021, December
Champagne flutes sat used and muddled together in the sink. I stood, absent and barefoot, in the middle of smooth lamplight pooling across the kitchen floor. Things had dwindled down the past hour and only two dozen of Sasha and my families were left lingering...
by Junpei Tarashi | Dec 16, 2021 | 2021, December
Lynette’s War by Chella Courington https://www.agapanthuscollective.com.dream.website/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/Lynettes-War.m4a Cousin Lynette says she’s tired from cleaning East Main houses of rich bitches. They don’t even shit like us, got toilet seats that float...
by Junpei Tarashi | Dec 10, 2021 | 2021, December, Poetry
My poem lengthens and contracts like an octopus, an invertebrate able to squeeze through small openings or fill large cavities. My words inside their colorful bonnets swell and subside and trip over one another as I attempt to give them spine. Like an...
by Junpei Tarashi | Dec 8, 2021 | 2021, December
today, if you haven’t siphoned enough money into your real estate ventures, if you haven’t lured enough unsuspecting travelers to the motor lodge, if you haven’t done enough club drugs in Miami, if you haven’t rigged enough polls, if you...
by Junpei Tarashi | Nov 30, 2021 | 2021, Flash Fiction, November
It is Phoebe’s turn at love and not at the love all the beautiful people on primetime TV seem to find on every corner as if connection were a thing always waiting to be found in the froth of some ocean that drowns New York City then collected in a hand and very slowly...
by Junpei Tarashi | Nov 18, 2021 | 2021, November, Poetry
Our Guardians the Pines by Lorelei Bacht https://www.agapanthuscollective.com.dream.website/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/Our-Guardian-the-Pines.mp3 When they exiled the first of usinto the woods, they did not know that we would take root and learn to devour foxes. Every...
