Zak Jones | NO PHOTOS OF RALPH

Before me mounds of food on Formica, crooked mouths of porcelain at parties. Before me staged smiles in tempered tonalities: and we’re going back in time. The cheap bleed of a red-tinged photograph— and another, and another. In this one I’m looking right down the barrel. Here’s me, my belly protruding and resting on my…

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***Select excerpts of 19:2 can be read online for free. To read the entire issue, purchase a subscription or a single issue.
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