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An Unparalleled Catastrophe, Ancestral Wisdom Made Flesh
The human brain coevolved with the emergent faculties of language and storytelling. Memory and narrative are not merely byproducts of cognition; they are fundamental to how we organize experience across time. For humans, the physical body does not precede the story we tell. We are the only species that biologically and metabolically emerged alongside the…
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Names for a blackened stove
Hear it this evening, rusted lace fingers and remnants of dirty flame. It has a large mouth, though never eyes on that gaping face. Sings with empty room voices: oil and metal, dustrag fumes, wood polish shallows. Groan when the rain starts, red weeds itch behind the house. A voice…
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Pearly Whites
As my pearly whites crunch into the powdered sugar, chew it like thick, hot sand, as my tongue melts it to stained glass, as I pray to baby Jesus sucking on his lollipop, as his first molar waits to come in it looks around the gums and sees sheep, wise old men, myrrh, screams, as…
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At the movies
Tissue paper face held over a match. Night dangles from rafters, perfume chemicals burn. Daylight burns like faces on the screen skin-soft, bleached and bloody. Picture this: grey background, rose buds flailing. Narrow angles abstract and brief as lips on neck. Later only rainy weather.
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Sacramento, 2018
The sidewalk outside is wet. So is my swing hanging from the orange tree branches, and my pink boots by the door that hurt. I like to draw the same picture over and over, a different bedroom from mine scratched out in blue pen. At night I turn into branches and leaves and things…
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it is late october and i thought i was falling in love three weeks ago
(There’s something off about this moment, a beauty mark on the day. I’m feeling small and alone, far away from home and homesick for my car.) it is late october and a discarded napkin swirls in the wind, imitating a fallen leaf. it is late october and the girl who i wanted to fall…
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Sentence Starters
We haven’t learned the right tense: the cliché of red leaves falling, your choice of hazelnut cold foam atop my cold brew, that dead squirrel we mourned for because despite the newborn tents we couldn’t have brought her back. Why would she want to? Live for a while then die, like crunchy leaves, like us,…
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Said, softly
Said, softly October crushes down, squeezing the juice of summer and all the faces are new fresh new Mouths fallen heaps of gloss and lips Sit. Sleep. October crushes, and leaves curl on asphalt like fingers. The leaves hurt, and the new new fresh new faces. The air stings pleasantly, like mint, like…
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We need to arrête
We need to arrête all of this liquid: bridges lawns psets towels gmail caffeine with the face of a dog barking in the north courtyard alongside teeth digging into flesh like that subtle ascent of adjectives you called psafe on because everyday is comme ci comme ça let us turn…