Category: wandering mind
-
Reinvent Reinvent
We went to NYC yesterday and I slept with it on my skin. Had red-light dreams and green-light dreams and smell like pigeons and people and musty subway smell. I like the subway smell, except when it smells like pee. I love the gear smell and the rushing smell and the dirt smell, the must…
-
Writing on the floor
This morning a black truck sparked its engine in front of me, a bark from a black dog, but i stared him down like you’re supposed to. That’s how you cross the streets in Italy, too, that’s what I learned there – never look away. But I imagined him running me over. Not to mortally…
-
I love more
What happens to us? the wonder? the fruit of our labor-ous (less) loves? the brown skin? seeping past the bruise itself but to more. muscle. bone – ivory no more but darkening. press a button. press it down. yellow seeps in too around the rim. a dying star of skin. am I a dying star?…
-
She was white hot
Carlos says fuck the waves. We’re standing up today. We are already sponsored surfers with mad money and skills. We can carve waves like the curl of an ice cream scoop, our skin chocolate brown or more like toffee or more like vanilla with red sprinkles. In the middle of the night a thunderstorm arrived.…
-
Sand seeds
I’ve become an urchin of the sea, a beach bum, a woman homeless on the sea and not homeless at all waving from the waves on a surfboard I’ve never tried before only got to my knees salt down my throat and calcified on my lips in white crystals. Sand in my scalp like dirt…
-
Wooden Heart
I think the cello is a wooden heart with strings. Can’t it say things in sounds and tones we could never say with words? An extension of the body, I wish I could play. Deep and broken and wooded like thick oak trees. Moaning and sweet like willow leaves.