becoming a monster sometimes isn't a choice that you have. the mother was mean and the boy was sold into a horrible circumstance. i can't sow, but if I could i guess I'd start with the hem if my mouth shut. i'm not tryna watch horror movies and then be alone, oh no am I… Continue reading NaPoWriMo 3
i’m thinking of all the women my mother rescinded me to. 8-7 weekdays. "I'm only leaving To bring things back." and i’m thinking of how she would tie a thread between us and her. mooring rope. “Can she see it?” Keisha’s mum never seemed to. So we sat together then, for hours waiting for the… Continue reading NaPoWriMo 2
poetry has broken the back of my voice. craft a bowl from spine. like lifted hands waiting for something to fall into them. poetry is taping postcards to hotel room walls. i’m dizzy. i’m watching a film in a language i don't understand and i'm watching my hands write subtitles. i’m falling asleep on my… Continue reading NaPoWriMo 1
they found themselves on either side of a shout through a bus window. one writes, stay the night. the other asks, am i a prostitute? [three weeks] one arrives on the other's doorstep, no winter jacket, does not sit down in the other’s mother’s presence, apologises. [at the other’s prospective house] one “we could make… Continue reading [a letter i still haven’t seen]
3 of them. pressed like flowers, inked, like flowers hands that have beaten poets from the sheets between me 3 of them. I just want every city to think of me and wish I was there, cup me like moonlight, miss me like a wound my god will make me a trophy in the next… Continue reading hands holding, hands holding
by the end of this year i will have a body of work. likely not yet at a standard i would like, but a living body.
i was fed through my eyes and wept through my mouth winter can never be kind to me the way i want it to so i keep it in my walls, winter i keep it there all year round and i never really leave just leave my keys in the door in case i should… Continue reading minor key
link up lock arms remind yourself of what homes are true homes homes that do not deny bump knuckles feel softer less brazen than you usually force yourself to be but alert to the new expressions they drag from behind them new postures new shadows do they still have that look that fills their face? when… Continue reading what they know now that you don’t