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Make beleive
Three poems trace addiction, exile, loneliness, and memory through surreal images where writing becomes a ritual of survival.
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Three poems trace addiction, exile, loneliness, and memory through surreal images where writing becomes a ritual of survival.
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“The earth makes a shoulder of itself like the lungs make the arms, the river makes the banks for water, the heart makes vessels for blood.”

“You missed her— the coy smile when she completed the most brilliant creation and quietly sat expecting and getting nothing, you missed her.”

“This room represents a lifetime. My lifetime. And at the same time infinite lifetimes.”

“I was the one who had to lean into my morals and away from the notion that I was bound by blood.”

A peculiar man he brushed his teeth before and after each meal and slept on clean bed sheets each night, a full set (including pillow covers) for each day of…

“I don’t know myself at all; an organism subordinate to itself.” – Self Portrait

“Speak in sighs, soft petals written beneath our skin, my darling—if you look at it the right way, all the world is a garden.”

The last time Evelyn laid eyes on him, he was sucking his thumb furiously, his blanket tangled around his little body, sweat making his soft blonde hair curl. Dozing in…