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Coming of age
When I was thirteen years old, I began to feel the bird inside me. Crammed inside a pelvis too small for its wings, it was trying to unfold. It burbled something, hoarsely, a parody of birdsong, as I stared and pretended not to hear. I was inside a tepid factory of scratching pens and clattering clocks,…
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Love is deciduous
Meeting you the first time was likeburrowing fingers into fragrant soil after rainto find earthworms, curled up like springs and summersin the notches in the feet of trees.And in some vernal ways too it was likethe sun glowing through green cocoons abovethe swing, revealing maps of veinsand corpses melting to nectarsoon to be stitched and…
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“What’s on your mind?”
It is strange that cold after heat registers as a pleasant tingling across the skin. Why is it pleasant? Why do we call it pleasantness? It is stranger to think that the cold, wonderful and skin-tingling, will persist long beyond the end of all terrestrial life, or that the same sights capable of producing a similar frisson will continue to glow to the blindness of lifeless space in which the planets and stars would…
