When I speak, the ghost of self leaks out my mouth. Like smoke, or vapor. My fingers curl out from my nostrils. I am watching the all of me cast out and drive away. It is too hot here. And the world is far too sad. There is too much anger for the sadness, as if we …
Continue reading Bird Watching
So there’s this bridge, yeah? The Swinging Bridge [of death] strung like a tightrope over some pretty chill looking rapids and by chill I mean frigid not cool. My boyfriend’s running back and forth across it like a Circus Act and I’m just kind of lingering at one end, swiping the toe of my boot …
Continue reading A Laugh like Butterflies
The Wild Heart of Life 