People change. People estrange. The wear and tear on the asbestos flange took my grandfather at seventy-five. My grandmother is alive, and turning eighty. The moon landing is forty. I am twenty. Ten, five. The moon is a Kennedy penny … Read More
Shall hold a life like a cupped palm, lash in the ocean. It knows the best exoskeletons protect the glass self sleeping inside. How to define oneself as a self that is only itself without the self it … Read More
“It was like my whole world filtered through a telescope when I knew you, all I needed was to look your way to think, yes, everything else is far and unimportant.”
y November you already thought of returning,
rubbing Vaseline into your palms and the crevices
of your cracked heels. No napalm rained down in a foreign land,
no birth dates streamed across the screen to push our brothers into war.
A horse walks into a bar. The Bartender says, “Why the long face?” “Well,” the horse says, “it’s my life.” “What about your life,” the bartender says, “What’s the story?” “That’s just it,” says the horse, “I don’t have … Read More
Not the way we do. As a refuge, as a moment of silence, as an interlude through mirrors, through cold. As a breathless moment with which to blot on two coats of lipstick and splash cold water on the cheekbones. … Read More
Spontaneity escapes me, I swim in fear of unlikely tsunamis, or phantasmic beasts. I swim with a raincoat on, protecting my words from the world. My ears tinged with the muffled sounds of laughter. My body quaking … Read More