Tag Archive: writer


Day 11!



We weren’t raised
on scythes and needles
though we sometimes dreamt
of Death in elf-toed shoes,
lazing around the city streets,
playing dodgeball with dusty
happy children. Why
do we have so many questions
pulsing in us like heartbeats?
I am only the sister of Destiny,
who liked to steal my dolls
to cut their long golden hairs.
I don’t believe in sharing eyeballs.

We made a pact – let’s fill
an hourglass with our ashes
and always run out of time.
Truth be told, we’d rather live
forever. Truth be told, we’ve never
been more alive.


Murakami at the MFA

Day 8! Inspired by a recent trip to the MFA in Boston and their amazing Takashi Murakami exhibition.


Murakami at the MFA

In 24 hours, I can paint your dragon
red – see? – reflected in the shining,
low-reclining Buddha with a thousand
wide-mouth flower smiles lying all
around us, superflat. Do you grimace?
Have you learned to love your mutants yet?
Throw your back out climbing tiny
ceramic rainbows to the moon but
can we get there? Can we pull our roots
through the lens of time and farm us
something fresh? If you leave them,
do they fester? If you love them,
do they find you? Have you ever felt
a hot and glistening breath like
lineage on your neck? And then
(you see!) my whirlwinds wind
my eyes like cloud-specks over every city,
and then you gasp in all the blooming
cardinal directions, and then you bring your
hands to mine, and then in bleating blasts of
color, and we call the Earth to witness.

Let love never be your hapax legomenon

Day 7! This is the most I’ve written in awhile and it’s been exciting to get back into writing every day. And challenging. And things are already getting strange. I blame the dictionary that was next to me when I wrote this…


Let love never be your hapax legomenon

Look for me in every glassy storefront – full of lunar music. Did I tell you I have lived like a satellite – receiving everything, against the better judgment of my aura readers? Psychics have said I am followed by spirits – no – I am full of them – brainhandled, sparked, and unflinching. There are no past lives. I am everyone I have ever loved. Shake me down like a thunderbolt. Dissolve my lissome filament. I have torn mendacity from my hedges and I will not be buying your tartuffery and star turns. Throw your pomegranates at the roadside dust like – not today, Hades! No, by now I have lief laid down my mysteries.