I have a watch that I wear only to tell me that I have all the time I need. I wear it on days I have marked as ceremonial beginnings. It is one link too loose on me, as it should be. It slides and sways with every step. I do not like when time handcuffs me. I do not like when time falls away … Continue reading scar tickings
(Title after a poem by James Wright, “Today I Was Happy So I Made This Poem”) Today I was happy so I ran a brush through my hair one hundred times. The grip of the comb a gratitude itself, look how I clutch, look how I hold, look how I care for myself. Today I was happy so I gathered one hundred children and told … Continue reading Today I was happy, so I made this post.
Yesterday now, I got a text that didn’t say much, less characters than fingers on a human hand, but it loosened my shoulders and relaxed my jaw, and I slept. Actually slept for a bit. I’m grateful for technology. A few hours before, I lost a tooth in a scoop of avocado. Two years ago, I started November’s NanoPoblano with a post about an avocado. … Continue reading journal 10.30
I sent you tulips, with all the obligations plucked away. Just the pretty stuff, I said– the bright petals and the inky insides, a leaf or two maybe for balance. If a poem were a flower, this would be it. You don’t need to water or press them, or trap their likeness in your camera. I did not send you an obligation, I sent you … Continue reading get well soon
I’ve thought about this a lot, and have come to the conclusion that I just can’t authentically manage NanoPoblano in its 30-days-in-a-row form this year. Last year’s combination-style was also chaotic for me as a host, because it felt like managing two different projects at once. So I’m separating them. This year for November, I’ll be doing NanoNanoPoblano: ten days of posting, ten days of … Continue reading A note on Nano 2021
Grief is light, I tell myself in the middle of another sleepless night. Sometimes I try to keep myself grounded but it is impossible when you hold so much light, when you are so much lighter than air, so much lighter than light. I think I could float away. I think I could be a star– just look how my name has collapsed into a … Continue reading grief is
There’s more to delete than to say: a novel of more space than word. . There is a tiny ceramic rhino I ordered from England. I bought him specifically to hold a ring that I no longer have, and now he is not a useful thing, but I love him nonetheless. He was willing to hold an unobviously heavy thing for a time, and it’s … Continue reading space
Yesterday’s post was written half-a-gummy in, and even though reading it today makes me cringe, I’m leaving it up because it will remind me to stop taking the gummies as soon as they are no longer crucial to my ability to consume food. I don’t want to numb myself and armor myself at the same time, walk out the door with too-soft thumbs and thimbles … Continue reading yikes: i think what i was trying to say