Category: memoir

memoir, poetry

why the moon is a little smaller now than it was 30 years ago

My star-shaped holepuncher could fill anything with the absence of stars,and I sat outsidein the cold air: a pile of leaves, my punched canvases. I would let them take the wind when they needed to leaf. Art belongs to itself alone,and I was waiting up for Venus. When the twinkle in the sky became clearto carry a name with certainty,a bright white brighter than anything … Continue reading why the moon is a little smaller now than it was 30 years ago

rarasaur12 Comments
in my head, journals, long read, memoir, society, stream of consciousness

jan 6

Sometime in the dark of early morning, I shook a fluffy blanket out and made tiny lightning. I spread my arms wide and parachuted a miniature sky of spark and star. I forget that static electricity looks the way it looks. Most days, it’s an invisible thing, a small jaw snapping at my ankles across a carpeted ocean. But in the right light– or, without … Continue reading jan 6

rarasaur33 Comments
journals, stroke diaries

cauliflower seashells

On the coast, the fog crashes through like kaiju, disappearing trees and buildings with a single blow. The dense and guttural cries inspire my joints to take their place in the chorus, creaking and groaning, too. My body, my city, is a monster movie before the destruction, during the destruction, after the destruction. We call the after the rebuilding, and the before the good ol … Continue reading cauliflower seashells

rarasaur9 Comments
journals, stroke diaries

happy

The last few days have been very good days for me, and I find myself so charmed by the possibility that this could be every day, or most days, that I just want to shout HAPPY from around a mouthful of toast. Thank you, Universe. You’re doing a good job. Some from the laundry list of reasons: My current stage of neurotherapy tests have become … Continue reading happy

rarasaur30 Comments