- Follow Eunoia Review on WordPress.com
Eunoia Review publishes on a daily basis, so it may take some time for your work to appear if there are several contributors scheduled ahead of you. At present, we have work scheduled to be published until 4 March 2019.
Note: Our site is best viewed in Chrome.
If you like what you're reading, why not click the buttons to share it with your friends?
- It's been a brutal week at the day job, and it's only going to get worse before it gets better. So if your piece ha… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 6 hours ago
- Counting eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2019/02/16/cou… 11 hours ago
- New Year’s Eve eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2019/02/15/new… 22 hours ago
- 729,181 views
Tag Archives: James Croal Jackson
Palm to neck – tactile hypocrisy. My Adam’s apple, weren’t my lips once sweet for Jesus? Crucifixion was puberty lapping holy water in adulthood’s church, blessed be hope. To remake myself is a perpetual game of jacks and marbles rolled … Continue reading
I was searching, too, having lost the will to film when I left Los Angeles. So when you and Billy hid bags of Haddad’s M&Ms from the other, I learned it’s okay and rare to find such sweetness inside the … Continue reading
Since I first saw your face shine from a stage and again in desert sun and through cool, desert night, you always felt right. We are soaked now in swimming pools and sands pooled near the coastline’s swaying smile that … Continue reading
Your wristwatch ticks slower than mine. Time does not account for the beating of two hearts on opposite coasts. Know we pass through days the same: second by second, minute, hour, moon—every second, every minute I fill myself with your … Continue reading
I used to find joy in little things. Like luck on the head of a penny. Or a tire chained to a blue wall in the subway. Or two bullets, no gun. Or your glance on long drives beside the … Continue reading
We were children foretold to save the world. We made love in alleys hidden from the moon. We calculated the trajectory of movement, fleeing into battle rooms of weightlessness inundated with that floating feeling of our necessary covalence. In our … Continue reading