I haven’t been writing. I’ve actively avoided it. Because Writing, focusing, fretting about little things in my life when all of this horrible shit is happening seems to me to be a waste Of TIME I tell myself, “write. write. write.” Why? “It keeps you sane.” But it isn’t important when so much hate has been released […]Read More Why Write When All This Shit Is Happening?
What’re you doing? Get back! Don’t worry. I’m fine. I know what I’m doing. What if you don’t? And this all ends badly? Nothing will ever happen or become if I’m too afraid to try. Reconsider. No. No? You don’t know what’s going to happen. You don’t know how this will turn out. Everything you’ve […]Read More A Conversation With Myself
You know what you can’t do Without drawing attention? You can’t sprawl out on the sidewalk. Head down, resting on the concrete, watching a bug. Feet up, kicking. I guess you can, if you’re eight or ten. You could lie there for hours rubbing a rock back and forth And no one would bat an […]Read More When Your Time Is Up
You shouldn’t be here. Not with all this Wind. Tendrils torn Sweeping loss, flakes of flesh Bits pealed away Steal away up to the sky This Wind. Tumbling, stumbling, skittering down the street. Pressed to a wall, a fence, a tree Brief rest before whisking off rolling, tearing, crumbling chunks of muscle The side of […]Read More All This Wind
A window A screen A light on inside You sitting at the table You reading a book A door A knocker A light on inside You tiptoeing You crouching A sliding glass door A screen A light on inside You on the couch back with your book A forehead resting on the wall A sob […]Read More Lost To Us
I spend an awful lot of time feeling right. I know everything. I have every answer. I think everyone else in incompetent. Why do I do that? Why do I try to fix? Why don’t I let people tell me the answer? Why don’t I think they’re capable? Why don’t I let them be better […]Read More Questions About My Behavior
What has happened? In this house We hid among the plates and mugs We crammed between hangers, pressed tight amongst dresses We burrowed into couch cushions Slunk down hallways Pressed tight against the walls Peered slowly around corners, edges, bookcases, shelves Crept close, peeked in, peeled back. Whispered What has happened?Read More This House