Poetry. Prose. Passing Notes

she thinks of that morning many years ago, just two of them here— white linen gathering dust on the hems.

Lessons from the field.

And when there are no more words, and you sink into the reverie of silence, your healing will hold you

camped solo this weekend. got high-centered in silty mud. spinning wheels sinking deeper. dug, cursed, prayed. felt alone on deeper...

this morning, while bodies moved collectively I felt ushered out of myself, buoyed by inhales and exhales

my body is a love letter that I have been writing to you for lifetimes

When you caress the hollow between my shoulder blades

surrender takes courage she said gliding her mallet inside the singing bowl growing louder until the floor vibrated and with it my chest...

It’s the way taking means giving, spreading without smothering...

what of this beating heart, suspended in my chest, nourishing itself, splitting skin like larva, shedding its layers over again,...

What happens when we die, where we go, where you've gone?

I lay there, beneath the stars, breathing in the whole night sky

i hold very still. his smooth hand grips my shoulder, coarse chin hair scrapes my cheek, stale coffee breath hot over my mouth barely...

How he calls less often, but still, she builds a nest from stray words

This is our mother-daughter-women story.

Your absence seeps like a carnivorous vapor insidiously consuming my mouth, until smiling burns...

I’m one of those people who smiles when they mean to cry. There’s a grace to it, the way a handprint dissolves into tiny beaded capillaries