There are probably 14 little stickies on my dish soap bottle right now. Al in little clusters here and there, most of them around the top shoulders by the bottle’s squeeze top.
You know, those little stickers that come on apples, tomatoes, bananas….
did you know that I would find my feet again on this shale road— dozen razors in the bathtub left to rust another month did you carry on daydreaming that my binges would dissolve like too much sugar in the tea, the burdened green of summers spent at home did you hang the eyelet curtains to remind me how I cried when Nana prayed did you know I would live long […]
Our pages creak like cargo nets that sink over the hold. And we are cutting loose the ties that anchor bolts, to chains, to words— small clauses, crates of eulogies crash down and break apart, and with their clanging call up shipwrecked songs, and wake the deep
My fortune was a tawny boy who sang himself to sleep. He ran behind his father to the market, brought us dripping bags of olives bulging bigger than his cheeks. One buckle on his left shoe dangled trailing in the filth, and so I used to scold and make him wipe the floor. Isn’t it funny that I want to find his shoe? I can’t. I can’t. And I can’t find him in t […]