by Noah Stetzer | Sep 22, 2020
Men at Night the five quarts of my blood moving almost four miles an hour means the nurse pushing a morphine shot into my arm watches my eyes not the needle seconds only before my head swims in sweet opioids not so much removing pain but I care so much less about it —...
by Noah Stetzer | Nov 2, 2016
Under Snow Geese Nothing calls back to my dog when he barks against the dark window glass. Nothing cares one lick about the anxious whine low in his throat for the nothing that creeps down the street, the shadow that slinks along the gutter of the sidewalk— a...
