Mirror Mother

She says, look.
The world is ending.
The bridges are unbuilding themselves.

Portrait of a Book Report

The presumed quiet of isolation was replaced by withdrawal shakes—like being five coffees deep in a morass of meme-culture doom-scrolling. I found myself engaging far too many headlines and far too few books. At some point I asked myself: What from this noisy world do I want to fill myself with? What can I do to amplify voices of insight, beauty, reason?

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Landscape photo of the ocean with an overcast sky, and a dolphin's back rising from the surface.

A Dubious Triangle

Much to consider. / Foam in /
the hot, deep bath kisses my bitten nails.

Insomnia Diary

1:28 am./ I’ve taken Ambien every day this week. On Tuesday a quarter tab,/ by Thursday, a half. My pillow bucks. Crows peck the skylight& the moon’s a neon fog. My love breathes through his mouth—flaming a fire./ I close my eyes to the smoke but sparks remain.