A sled with too many reins to go anywhere. My father who is not my father sews my hands together.
between geometry & black holes what will you wear today?
Breathing: [bree-thing], /ˈbriðɪŋ/, verb 1. The nest was never big enough, so the blue bird kept building.
She was behind him now. This would be hard for you if you were weak but you’re not weak, she said and neatened his little...
You will live then with me until you learn to walk again— although going through TSA will never be a good idea.
“Let’s try this place,” he said pulling in to a roadside building with a simple sign “ANTIQUES.”
There are those simple elements Of a singular experiment. To say the minute is manufactured Inside a clock, what does that mean?
At my side, the white dogs sit, panting. All at once we collapse in the grass—our eyes closed, & throbbing.
Where is a landscape I could love more than this?
She was in a small boat made of aluminum. Her lover on the shore, straw hat, shirt outside his trousers like Lawrence in Italy, photographed...
Underneath it was quiet and blue and I felt safe. I held my breath as long as I could before coming up for air.
“You have to be able to tolerate contradiction to write good nonfiction.”