I can’t help but love love, and anything else that brings me close to the first breath of space. An artist on the internet makes an elephant smaller than a teardrop and it may be the heaviest an almost-atom has ever been, and I cannot own it because even my spare change must be spent surviving the atoms that try to crush me, so that … Continue reading spare change
Pull a shoulderthrough your phonefor your tearsto borrow.Be embarrassed,but feel better. Feel better. Steal gasps of airand replace themwith even bigger gaspsof used air.The key is you must givemore than you’ve taken.Quiet the panic.Feel better. Ruin your make up.Twice. Forget your name.Forget to eat. Eat a scoop of peanut butterand feel better. Retweet a strangerand borrow more problems. Reply to a DMand borrow more problems. … Continue reading how to have my day
The risk of poetryis the afterlifeof a feelingnot meant tooutlive sunriseor flesh. TodayI keep the fleetingmortal. Continue reading mortal
In the alleyway the children play,and today play means screaming,means catch me if you can. Time time time, they say,between the shouts,so loudI almost stop doing taxesbecause fair is fair,and someone called time. I remember the game.I remember the rules. I do not remember how it wasto shriek my laughterthrough my neighborhoodlike the boss of space and time. Continue reading saturday
I like big-headed people,literally:those whose headsdon’t fit in default hats.I like a facethat could be turnedinto a statueby Medusa herselfand still be easilyidentifiable.I like a person who canstop what they’re doingand take a two and a half secondtime out. And I like the folkswho notice the dandelionsthat sprout under the roses,the folks who lean inreal closewhen I say I have somethingtinyin my hand. I like … Continue reading glimmers
When everyone whowas never locked upleaves, we talk in keys,coded melodies. We do swift talk,real talk. We don’t talk a thingaboutclosed doors. We talk likepassed kites.Make sky,break windowsif need be.If need be free. And why wouldn’t it? We are the speedand stillnessof ourcircumstances,raised likenumbers meant to bediscounted. When everyone whowas never locked upleaves, we talk in thecomplexityof count. Continue reading after
Prompt: Fiction. Ghost Tomato. A Comedian On his last breath,on his last day alone,a tomato appearson his nightstand. He tittersoff the stage. How many people does it take to build a tomato? The hungry man dreams himself fed,imagines a radiant orange-redtomato on the street.It is sheer in direct sight,vanishes in the sunlight.Still a treat. And this is the core of every nostalgia I find him … Continue reading four fictional fruit
I made up this namebecause I needed more room. I live on the coastand rent is too highto spread my wingsand the ocean airis too full of lost thingsfor a lost thing like meto explore alone.I like the seagullthat comes to my window tosing down the alleyand bounce as her voiceechoes up into the sky. It is a hideous songby most measures,but I tap my … Continue reading Rara Avis
rarasaur 