A break, a puncture. A hand, moon-shaped nails. The ongoing act of leaving, rising in the dark, the brazen trust given to seeking. Finding is by chance — furry green acorns held up to you by a child, palm glowing lit as her face before blank cornfields, a lunar vision.
Category Archives: Sleepwalking
Cape May
A blank sun pressing its palm to my forehead, I am wrapped in a red scarf that’s seen foreign winters and snowfalls in my city — now the glare is too hot for April and the spuming water too cold. The beach is part desert, sand thick and dry dropping like fistfuls of bird seeds,Continue reading “Cape May”
Anaphora: a method to begin
The span of a decade, sequence of deep sleep spaces you have never lived pave their hollows into the brain set off an equation some other linguistic entity, some field that shook its stalks against a white porch light in a storm but that was not you there somebody else that is some other childContinue reading “Anaphora: a method to begin”
mabel lee 