Curse Universal
Alpha widowed and exiled from a dream. Siberian winter delirium, or maybe just mold poisoning.
PASSION 4 FASHUN: Ontology of the slippage (of sorts)
Let me elucidate: I know I shouldn’t be so comfortable sitting right up against strangers on the bus.
An Unspoken Agreement (with Someone Buried)
It is dangerous, to choke out their dreams in dirty water.
On Esoterislop
My following applauds, “found footage of griffins” and “me at the Shambhala store”, and that “the scallion is the best-known symbol of beauty and love”.
Where is My Muse
Threaded through one is a strip of red satin, its loose ends unravelling, dragging on the floor below.
The Seven Hours In Between
I am worried that we could lose and even more worried that the game will only get to day three.
I Have So Much To Tell You
In primary school I had a project on endangered animals. I chose the butterfly fish and made him the star of my live-action film.
Inner West Uber Pool
“I hated my old job. I was holed up in an office, and all of the people I worked with only talked about work. Work work work. I hated it.”
The Universe is Not in the Cedars
So when I find my mouth drying up, when I want to substitute the sun for an egg yolk in the sky, I count it time to get to nature.
I have never conceptualised hell.
It exists inside sentences and Renaissance paintings; mouths prised open by angels, bodies arranged like furniture with the aesthetic restraint of oil paint.
Amaneurosis
My hand is pressed hard against the window, and I am looking at the bloodlessness of my fingertips and the soft cracking off-white paint on the wooden windowsill.
The Keymaster
Maybe the changing decimal places send a buzz that fizzles down from the billboard into the cabling, through the machine and into buttons, shocking their paper thin flesh and pulsating through their nerves?
A Good Host
It begins inside me as a change in weather, a subtle dampness seeping into what I had assumed was stable internal architecture.
Good Enough
When my great grandfather died late in the night in Poland, we were pulled out of bed by our sobbing mother. Everyone quickly slipped into black clothes so we could comfort our immediate grandfather.
Love, Death, Knitting
I still had bell hooks. And I still had my grandma. Knitting’s always helped, too.