Clutter

the house looks like that kind of anxiety you can’t really talk to people about because it smells like rancid dish water and stale, endless masturbation dust and dog fur mingle on hirsute heirlooms my eyelids feel like the jowls of a bloodhound I grind my teeth and breathe in peace-scented candles until I cough…

Interview with Alex Creece, July Featured Author

  Starting this month, Rosewater will be having a “featured author” each month. The editors choose a contributing author, ask them a few questions, and focus that month on publishing many of their pieces. This month, we have chosen Alex Creece, a dedicated Rosewater contributor. Alex’s pieces have historically crossed genres, focusing on personal narratives,…

An Open Life

I had been foolish, once again, to let my heart be torn open by men. My mother had warned me about this once. Strict, autocratic, with a tinge of neuroticism dyed into her every nerve, she had ruled over my household with an iron fist. No wonder – she had escaped communist China with her…

Tantra

                I write with you still on the tip of my fingers … Table scraps of memories and all the places you bring me by the slight twitch and dip of your muscles I know nothing like your brand of love and thrust Not lust, But divinity And…