Grave Dance

The earth is hot with rageand it’s teeming with delights.We’re hungry out here, and we like to fight. We like to tangle with lovers,to twist our legs and arms,we like to stretch our wet tongues to touch,like snakes beneath a charm. We play at order-we wear masks that say Sane,say Peace,say God. We strip naked […]

Confronting the Shadow

Ever walked the desert in the middle of the night? Caught frozen air and tobacco in the sharp of your bite? Are you afraid of the dark? Are you afraid of your face in the dark? The creatures come alive in the desert at night. The moon is an eye in the sky. Skin becomes […]


You don’t know about the kid- the kid is not around for this beyond the lips which doused the flame and swallowed up the pit. Call the kid piranha if you wanna, kick back with the red juice and your trauma. Tick the list of fucked up shit and draw the face with commas like […]

A Friend/a Snake

In a way you could say that I am more pulp than pit or skin. When people try to hold me in their hands they all too often drop me, like they expected something firm and plush, a gift from any tree to trust but I just drip around their fingers and form to their […]


(in a stream of consciousness, in threes.) Dirt road Shanty home and Second hand clothes like coming up with nothing makes a person feel like anything is possible, like I could be the only Disney princess with a body bathed in dust, head adorned with a little crown of purple flowers, belly full of bologna […]


I thought I ate that bleeding peach enough times for my chin to stain a sour shade of pink. I can’t recall, the moments fell like towers- but did I grind the pit into a powder? Pressed beneath the skin like all the hours you never spoke to me. And every grain of it is […]


In your room in shadows buried, in your room, a sanctuary – I am kitschy altar effigy with candles in my hands. I am kelpie in kinbaku on my knees. I am a figure of invisible ink on canvas in a shade of pink, (a color that is nothing but a series of numbers.) Numbers […]


In his hands he held me a velvet voice bereaving the time is ticking slowly, yet from his lips the drips they drip so sweetly and the liquid is deceiving. Absynthe on his tongue and I can’t get enough I say one more taste of what you call love. Cos I don’t know the language […]

Queen Anne’s Lace

Queen Anne’s lace grows quiet by the roadside in spring. With brilliant purity, leaves of chartreuse and flowers champagne. With edible bitter roots, wild carrots you could call out by name. Queen Anne’s lace grows dark and brittle as a backdrop by fall. She stays the night just as quiet as before, with a heart […]