empty floating feeling randomly calm
“Guayaba, not gwa-vah,” she reminds me. I let this word melt onto my tongue It feels as dense as caramel,…
How many times are we Goin’ to the chapel in the churchyard Mr. Kierkegaard?
I’m entranced by these women successively rising from the molten earth, like a ghostly dance, ripening into the cracked chestnut…
A word that brings comfort, an overwhelming sense of home.
How much bleach do you think we need to scrub the sky?
Revere my lamp; it can only communicate so much when it’s on, but I’ve wired it to suggest: I’m home.
jump in pond
My feminism doesn’t blame just men. No, I’m not programmed to criticise anything that doesn’t have a vagina.
Image by Emma Lehman some days, I swing in loveI wake up and paint sunshine on my bedroom wallsI hold…