On:

Who can know for how long you’ve been falling— until the vastness, dim and spare, discretely legible and worn with use, is no longer referred to by its real name. You were drawn in, lungs first. Of course you sank. Perceptibly finite, repurposed, just like everything else. But all thoseContinue Reading

On:

and I do creep into your weird grossness. Although I reel at the absurd, the anthropomorphic: when you unify jagged things, I spasm. It’s not that I fear the tentacles: nor that snakes, slinking, or the buttery gut punch of a jellyfish hold jurisdiction. I don’t mean claws—gruesome, stark— canContinue Reading

On:

I. The forest darkens and I know you wander it. I hear bits of song, but without recognizable words—like the contents of my own head. Even in morning, no warbles of birds, only strange rustles (leaves on branches? Although they hang blankly in winter.) I hardly know you. I can’tContinue Reading