Your Story Is Not Their Story

There are always giants at the end of beanstalks. This was proven long before anyone knew of Jack, that poor and petulant farmer, and proven again long after. It’s a tale told time and time again, always forgotten but sometimes deciphered from the trills of uncertain cicadas. (When cicadas tell each other bedtime stories, theirContinue reading “Your Story Is Not Their Story”

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conversation with my mother 3/7/2015

i want a goat, i tell her. pygmy or nubian? the cheese-making kind, i tell her. & their eyes are so cute. i say, my friend has a goat who will only deign to eat grass if you rip it out for her and let her eat it out of your hand. my mother takesContinue reading “conversation with my mother 3/7/2015”

poem from last midnight

it sounds like a bees’ nest at my ceiling but when i sit when i put my head out the window it’s water, a neighbor’s shower going; i go back to bed it’s bees again, some fantasy of wood and angles and bent sound but in the end it’s water a shower it stops. there’sContinue reading “poem from last midnight”