"I jump the fence at the park, / following echoes to twist and fall back / down, down, to sink beneath the waves, the sand, the snow closing over / eyes that don’t see, that aren’t here,"
"maybe because she was raised poor, / maybe because for the first decade of her life / mao ripped away her / expression, her roses, identity– / brainwashed, is the word she uses now, but // my mother keeps everything"
"I spoke to many people. Mostly I spoke to men who sat in large chairs, peering at me over manila folders; the space between us felt like lifespans."
"If I were in the stands, I would see the smoke rising from the barrel of the gun, well before we will hear it go off from the starting blocks. The speed of light travels close to three hundred million meters per second faster than the speed of sound. Silence is what we’re left with."
On three artists who "manipulate this everyday tool to create thematic photo series that question the implications of the indiscriminate, omniscient observer."
"Leon was absolutely forbidden from entering the kitchen, making his perch on the countertop and the thud of his dangling heels kicking back against the drawers all the more satisfying." Fiction.
“A spell is something a lot of people call a lot of different things. Some call it dementia. Others say amnesia. I just call it getting old.”