Tag Archives: #amwriting

The turning back spot before coming down

When the poem is done I let it take effect on me like a pill slid down my throat, waiting. And when at last you get to the top, when you’ve reached that place to stop and turn back, how … Continue reading

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Excavation of self, through rotten banana peels and skin

At last the smell that was really me came to bare, to fully express itself, as a piece of rotten fruit or uneaten meat, table scraps left to bloom in some dark, neglected space. A smell, an essence, of toxins … Continue reading

Posted in prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Weights

At this time of day, this time of year, the butterfly glows gold in the window of our den it’s hung by chains, framed, with dust in the old border and cobwebs strung to the window’s edge the butterfly is … Continue reading

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