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I was walking one step. The sidewalk, the concrete grey as sky. The ticking, tinging, and the top of the telephone poles, clicking messages to remember the deeper aspect of this dry, toxic underworld in the north. This is not … Continue reading
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Seventeen. Seventeen times across the country, around the globe, irrelevant. The girl calls. The bones, muscles ache. The breath is heavy. I’m intertwined. undetachable. Cannot hide. I’ve been trying to understand where the bags under my eyes arise from. The … Continue reading
Not everything is here, temporality, the cartography of seven golden earths, standing still on the back of my hand, muscles, aching river beds. This king, frigid, firm. Tenderness, fingers finding secrets in the darkness. This isn’t the first time I’ve … Continue reading
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Brilliant writing, really. The front page of the newspaper each morning should have the best opening line, hook those readers on the evidence in yesterday’s fascinating events. Fuck. Because I live in this dull commentary on whatever the fuck. How … Continue reading
assuming it is all my own creation, why this? Why a lifelong fantasy, why the veins on my hands pronounced like mountainous landscapes in a dusty desert. Needn’t I a child? Needn’t I a partner even? I do love my … Continue reading
Marching rhythm. White, blue, white, blue. I have a mother’s hands. But no daughter, no enfant. I have a woman’s heart now. My age escapes me slightly, my temples en argent. A mid summer’s night march. I would do anything … Continue reading
You know, I thought I would write all winter. In the end I cried. The inklings of typing whispered in, but monsoons, salt, exhausted eyes. It’s been a hell of a winter. A whole year has almost passed, we’re only … Continue reading
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I’ve written a lot of horrible stuff. Once in a while there are phrases that come out gem like. I’ve had this old crush. I don’t know if it serves me well. It’s hard to say.
I dream of you, and you’ve put a level on our love. Ensuring equality is how you express utmost admiration. You turn me on with a beacon in our souls, and, by the way you use your hands to construct … Continue reading
Honesty vs the fair ghost. This has changed a lot since I last considered it. Could thoughts be strung together in such a way to mimic the emotional landscape of a breakup? Staring at the tiled floor of my office … Continue reading
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