If two sameselves make a paradox, then so is my birth;one roll of the die with infinite sides.I oscillate between possibilitieslike a speck of dustcaught in vision. A child of coincidence, one branch of Yggdrasil, born to yearn for fruit. I’d like to reconfirm my own existence, ensure that I was some other unknown in […]
Time lies, useless as a swordin the lake. For one, there’s time,and then, there is passage, as income, squeeze the cheeks of this little tragedy. Who will offerthe world their breast? I’m sat, couched deep in tomorrow,hands on the pulse. Tomorrow I willflip onto the pavement and pound itInto confession. Tomorrow I will flip on […]
The taste of dish soap lingerson the rim of the teacup. You and I sit at crossroads, legsdangling over cliffs. This isan exercise in communicationby proxy, messages hiddenin the fold of an arm. Coltrane murmurs in the background likea roommate, and the televisionis switched off. This is timeless,this is the way we freeze-frame our lives, […]
it’s not like they gave birth to me, it’s more like walking througha forest covered incobwebs in the deepof night, it’s when thevillage elders check your body for remnantsand find nothing. this is when you must bebroken and affixed,flaws masked with growth, and there isthe fire of inspirationcowing, and there is the hand that […]
outside it is pouring,dark spilling over the sidewalklike a glass filled with the blood of something fragile.you and I are somewherein this flood of warmth. the rain continues to knockon the roof, a witnessto all of this nothing.time drips slow. quiet.you and I will part so soon.
It’s not as much a tussle as much as it is a boxing match; the dodging and weaving like swerving into traffic.The reason people must inevitably bury themselves is the same as why full stops must be full. You know the steps by heart:here is an empty space to be filled. Here is a name erased. Here is another […]
After ‘Mud man’ by Chikako Yamashiro the word spread across the town like rain. we lie, waiting to be exposed to wisdom from the heavens. we let the word blot us out, cake us in dirt; your hands, blooming from the earth like mangroves. we are tethered here, grasping at raindrop, leak, and tear. somewhere […]