Print and digital publications
Hot literati; didn’t want to have to do it
I’ve horrified her. It’s no matter. I have Tooth.
Hot Literati; Little Deaths/Little delights
Sugar deposits.
hot literati; Little deaths/little delights
God bless Nwaka and God bless New York.
Hot literati; a quick one Before the cicadas return
She rips her legs from under me which only cracks my jaw, and suddenly the swaying image of the subletter’s hips and waist and mouth and rapture has transmogrified into a 20 year-old child with piss streaming down her leg and into her socks.
Hot Literati; anatomy of an oyster
He was nice enough, which he learned to be given his micropenis, alopecia and status as a eunuch. The rate was $500 for a ‘handjob’ (two fingers coiled around his shaft) and a motorboat.
Kingfisher Magazine; Transcend!!!!
…and I like being alone but can afford to indulge in romance. It’s like being ready to get a dog. Or children. But with freaky sex and hair pulling and Oops! Did someone mention marriage? conversations over beer pitchers and hot peanuts. I think... I’m feeling tired, jersey man’s saying to me.
hot literati; its so easy to embarrass yourself
Obscurity is a skill I’ve learned to both master and abuse in my time as a writer. It was born out of antipathy, necessity, chagrin. I was an illiterate child actor who wished for a talent agent (grown man, pressed suit) to pop out of a box on Christmas morning and abduct me to Los Angeles; I’d even settle for Atlanta.
hot literati;
Nice movies to watch with your brother
“When people ask what kind of love story, what the dynamic is,” he looked to the interviewer for recognition, he nodded, “Don’t tell them. It’s a love story. It’s personal, in the way your own love life is. Let them see on their own.”
Hot Literati;
Auctioned sentience
At no certain point, the mirror’ll end up in an auction with marbles and baby socks and books with torn covers and some lady in a hilarious hat will say, Hey Auctioneer, get that piece of Shit off the stage! And the auctioneer will notice the split, and do so himself, and the whole crowd will laugh and point and beat the mirror to bits.
hot literati;
The gospel according to mar wolf
CHARISMA BLEEDS AND STAINS EVEN YOUR WORST ENEMY! BE CAREFUL! BUT,
HAVE A BLAST!
Pearl press
no. 16;
carina
And it was me piss-drunk and you with thirty-six waking hours straight, and the distance generates a pulsing flush to cheek and massage to lymph nodes, to ease the cracked hoarseness in dry air, It’s not that far, it’s not too late, I’ll meet you again.
bottlecap press;
until the rock concert
“Founded in the haziness of dream recollection, stories are told as from the perspective of active anamnesis — haunting, pictorial dreamscapes bring forth rich themes of inner privacies, repression, and, on a greater scale, the combing for digestible meaning within one’s inner workings.” -BCP
seasons of des pair
icons;
yacht rock
Ten inches below, the swells fall softly, rhythmically, pressing against the padded bank in familiar tunes, creating an arch of space for the clinking to cut through.
The independent;
mar wolf on tiktok and film
We spoke to Mar Wolf, an independent filmmaker out of Brooklyn, and asked her about how filmmakers like herself have utilized TikTok as a new means of producing content as well as a platform that provides versatile editing tools in a simple manner.
the luna collective;
q&a: Mar wolf
“ A VISIONARY CREATING THE WORLD SHE WANTS TO LIVE IN THROUGH THE SILVER SCREEN - Mar Wolf is at the forefront of the movement to improve the film industry for the better.”
Soft quarterly no. 5;
eating jimmies in the woods with cori
We’re eating Jimmies from a shared palm and watching the hill, watching the wind fall through the trees and brush past the lighter, powdery snow at our sides. We said nothing for a while, then talked about boats and sex with no consent and dead relatives and the Earth bending, and breathing.
the scintillation;
king
2019, script, experimental drama
Pure Nowhere
dear youth;
three new years
“I wanted to get in my car and go home, but I had to be kissed at midnight. How fucking stupid.”
pure nowhere;
ladies in the rain
August ended early when she left the city, and she sent me a text from midair. She told me she ‘missed me already’. I picked up the dog’s shit from the street grate and looked up 35,000 feet to see what she could possibly be missing.