Sunday Comics
Drive with the dealership tag, that’s what they love; Sunday Comics on my shoulder, that’s what they love; the smell of new leather in the cold, that’s what they love; Strawhat V-neck t’s, that what they love
Free Thing of the Week: Seattle Star Creative Commons Jazz Mixtape #12
We’re back to jazz this week, for the increasingly infrequent thing of the week. This mixtape takes us back and forth in a groove between Europe and North America, so strap in and take a flight.
If You’re Born on an Island, The Ocean Heals You: Jacob Jonas The Company’s Crash and Other Works
Omar Willey travels to exotic Edmonds for his first dance review since quarantine.
Sunday Comics
Being good ain’t enough lately; I ain’t got the strength to read me Sunday Comics. Can’t figure what got me here–I don’t want to preach alone, it’s easy to disappear…But mother I’m good as gold! Am I not your boy? Your child? The kid that I once was
Is dead.
Five Poems
Poetry by James Stemmle.
Roadside Cleanup
Fiction by Robert Earle.
Sunday Comics
And if I see you, it’s like nothing went wrong. Yeah, if we meet again tomorrow, just like Sunday Comics. But there I go erasing our chances just by asking, “How do you sleep?” One step forward. Six steps back.
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