when the wind died we held our breath as long as we could
 

In the dry season, as the stones surfaced like turtles, he believed they were floating on the water. As the drought progressed, he began to think the stones were the stream. But now, knowing that the human body is comprised mostly of water, he believes he is the stream.

I have the right to be forgotten.

After sleeping with him three times, I bought him Wittgenstein’s Blue and Brown Books and made him a cheesecake.

through the glass of the shop that never opens clown figurines grin

… we are bags of sky

if you’re ever in this river swallowing a star

no gender moons
drown in sunflower milk

There are days when you break the time up into small pockets & allocate a task to each of them. It’s not done through any sense of efficiency; rather, it provides something to move on to, or move away from.

It doesn’t always work, & what was intended doesn’t always work out. This half hour has been allocated for spending at the computer. You stick at it, even though the reality is 30 minutes staring at a blank screen waiting for words to come.

The block is almost finished. Time to move on. The clowns arrive at 4.01.

People say completely unrelated
things in order to continue the small
talk. Emotional trauma is a normal
response to a disturbing event. No

good comes from crying. Find some
calm, give silence a chance. There’s
no real protocol; but certain things
can gift you some breathing space.