ABOUT

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My crewmates have grown mad with misconceptions. They rage at the tapping, fantasize about violence, and pretend that we still have free will. Our free will ended when we trapped ourselves inside this shell.

Shoreline Of Infinity - Publisher

Jesse Rowell's The Stone Piles featured in magazine; the ethics of shame and suffering.

After Dinner Conversation - Publisher

Jesse Rowell's The Valens Program featured in anthology; a "collection of provocations."

Cybersalon - Publisher

They looked like us, but we couldn’t connect with them as they spread disinformation through the tidal flow, their memetic messages turning us against ourselves. “When a sieve is shaken, the husks appear,” we quoted Sirach when they became our enemy.

Ab Terra Books - Publisher

All past and future lives spread out in the singularity like strings on a lute. I see Hector’s life and pluck his string. He has added some inconsequential events to his future but the sound of his note decays into silence against Achilles’s spear. 

Ab Terra Books - Publisher

The courage of that stranger, somebody lost to the tattered pages of our country’s history. What is courage but a tourist book of suicide? The cripple holding a gun to his heart, or the intellectual fighting for revolution, one in the same married in death.

The Chamber Magazine - Publisher

He felt a pain remembering that he had scripted this exact response for caregiver robots if asked meaning-of-life questions. He was hearing himself answer himself through a synthetic voice, a signature of his own in the digital domain.

Ab Terra Books - Publisher 

Murphy Vega tried to bury his creations under shale and sandstone. The community he once led now lies in ruins, a ghost town of broken boards and wall insulation made of newspaper flaking off like yellow leaves in the autumn wind. The imaginary people he sought to hide...

Cybersalon - Publisher

They laughed at the shifting fabric of their bed. “This is space,” she said running her hand over the sheets, “and this is us traveling through space. These ripples are gravity wells which accelerate you toward me."

Ab Terra Books - Publisher

The silver rooster pecked at its body and left when it didn’t rise. On subsequent days he returned to visit the body and tsk tsk at the state of his companion, tsk tsk at his own isolation, the smell of rot rising in the humidity.

Hawai'i Pacific Review - Publisher

Liquid pressed against the geometric curve of time, space and matter. We rest on liquid strings plucked to send us singing words that reproduce images that reproduce words that reproduce images.

Cirque Literary Journal - Publisher 

What had he whispered in her ear? It had become relevant now as I was about to be lifted up again. The bearded man stood in the doorway, forever smirking, a specter in both our minds.

Crack the Spine Literary Magazine - Publisher 

The tour bus hadn't arrived yet. Soon they would spill through the door, asking for arrowheads and pottery shards. Their graceless bodies stepping on ghosts.

NPR - Publisher 

Pavement river on the streets below / where cars hum in stagnant repose / like huddled clumps of swampland reeds / unmoved by swimming tadpole tails

Impulse Journal - Publisher