from “The Cow Suit”
Filmic | Patterning
Rattlesnake Tamer | Taylor and I | On an Evening in Crown Heights
Dream Home | Dream Home
Burning is ocean shared
Praise for the Inner Lining of my Morphing Apparel | Nature knows a little about Slave Trade
The Rebel | Mars
Because that’s what it feels like. . .
And from the thousands of words that define us, not a single word has just one paternity. . .
Maybe Keano’s electroceutical fed the neural concerto of Aanya’s break-up into larger networks of perspective. She couldn’t decide which was better: fixation or detachment?
Shifu looks at the stream behind her compound, contaminated from the mines, thin and weak, and still thinks she can drink from it. She says freedom is flight. She says water is life. . .
She stands at the mirror, staring at her reflection for what seems like a long time, waiting to see how quickly the puffiness will go down, learning that the answer is not fast enough. . .
Every good story starts with a dead mother. Nothing worth doing is possible until she dies.
Even a bookstall harbors the energy of a huge bookshop, books falling off its edges. You and I fell off a bench once. Gravity tricked me into thinking that it was fate, love, us, falling. . .