As I drift to sleep, I wonder who the real me is and who’s the imposter.
MICRO
, Your Legs
little / octave, I wear silk too
MICRO
Autumn
It is hard to not hate
myself, the self who’d rather/ turn inward as dusk spirals
into its Tang dissolve. And isn’t ruin, too,/ a thing to celebrate?
ENUMERATE
Talking to the Dead
She doesn’t know why I left the other one who sees the dead was too young to be sent off to boarding school stayed home to witness
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Ruth Asawa: Each Loop, A Lifetime
Says the artist: There is no separation between studying, performing the daily chores of living, and creating one’s own work.
Skin
This skin has listened as I have tried to formulate sentences and protests to how it has been handled, and then has accepted that I have done nothing to save it from being touched.
BRUNCH.
i am descendant from women who greet death like brunch. /
i do not know if this is bravery or foolishness.
My Therapist Wants Me To Practice Mindfulness
Throughout the day he touches the necklace and thinks of me.
