This dewdrop world— Is a dewdrop world, And yet, and yet… —Kobayashi Issa * Every night before sleep, I turn on a fan. Sometimes multiple ones. Ceiling and bedside. Pedestal…
I am learning the business of being loved, the way always lingers on the tongue after it’s spoken more than once. There is a rhythm to it, the banality of…
after Vera Iliatova’s ‘Reconciliations’ (2014) What do you think when you see people running? — Sometimes it’s just chaos, sometimes the other way round — happiness, excitement to just discuss…
boy is single boy is a no-name town he kisses death welcome or desolation boy is allergic to sunlight boy wears darkness on a starry…
creates a snare drum throbbing eighteenth notes on my roof for a solid ten minutes. A bag of spilt pellets dancing on linoleum. On repeat. What gets me though is…
The silence of a thousand years is broken with a whisper, emanating from the heartbeat of oppression. Time can no longer restrain truth. It breaks open sins of the past.…
There is within a longing for the deep hours. Ones where entire days disappear in a blink and worlds are discovered, word by word. Those simmering moments when day paints…
i told my children the silence is very clear there is less sorrow in the world than there could be we are upon the fog and not under it we…
there is the silence to be thankful for there are shooting stars and pulsing satellites the dogs don’t bark into the night, that’s a plus still, they stare at me…
