There is no more fine line. I built a rock garden there. Queen Mab sends kind regards bequeathed it all a holy place, one of sanctity and magic. I am here grounding my aching feet deep in the earth and she welcomed me so all the trees say my name among others. There is no … Continue reading I am brand new and marvelous
My pen is a hammer. I hold the nails in my mouth. I spent years building my own coffin. I took the measurements and planned what my obituary would read. My pen in a hammer I want to smash in the faces of men. Father let me down. Told me I was to blame. and … Continue reading This Pen Mine
I wish I met you once, we both drunk. I would place my finger just above the bridge of your nose and put it in my mouth thinking a woman could sweat art the way she does loss or tequila. I'll bring the red string. You will bring the shears.
Recipe for pickled eggs Today my brain is a pickled egg Floating, isolated Inside my skull. My thoughts taste of vinegar. My mouth the mason jar lid. In the night I was boiled Three hours later Cooled and peeled. You must imagine how this feels. How raw A shell removed Fed to the garbage disposal. … Continue reading
I have given it a name. The Bleak this beast it bites and in its bullets are coffin nails. Those nails I hear them crying this sad work. This goodbye . This ready fear and hate that wants to consume. Will it stop for nothing? On it savages and we are groping because we are … Continue reading Mourning Song