You were sitting beneath a chandelier made of bones. I couldn't make out the shade of your eyes. You're always in such a hurry. You were walking down Hyperion the other night, streets empty, feathers jutting out of your back. It's winter in May and I quite love to hate it. You're the type who likes to disappear right when things start to get good. The boys are back together and everyone's in town except it's desolate and nobody gives a damn, but there you are, smiling in the evening wind. Master architect, traveling salesman, a martyr amongst the desperate, far-from-ragged men of the greater Los Angeles area. Maybe this was a horrible idea. Or maybe it’s perfect.
Jenna Putnam is an American visual artist, writer, poet, and musician. Her work has been featured in magazines and literary journals such as Autre, Hero, The Sun, and Expat Press. She is the author of Hold Still( Paradigm Publishing, 2017) and is currently working on a collection of short stories.
image: Michael Leviton
More Web Features
Most Recent
- Perceived
Andy Tran - Vincenzo Latronico on Perfection
Anna Dorn - Next Level Unlocked
Mia Risher - Notes on Our Ghost: or, Strangers of All Distances
Aaron Tomey - Unathletic Incident
Alex Avakiantz - MARCH MADNESS, 2019: Author as Capitalistic Commodity
Elizabeth Ellen - 2 Poems
Selen Ozturk - Hustled & Kidnapped in the Armpit of America
Genres
- Poetry
- Fiction
- Book Review
- Interview
- Sports
- fucked up modern love essays
- Nonfiction
- Rejected Modern Love Essay
- Trip Reports
- More Genres