The last time I saw Juteau cry was in October. Truthfully, I didn’t see her crying, but I saw the aftereffects: the smear of mascara trailing like dirty rainwater down the side of an abandoned building, the eyes as red as a desert sunset. She didn’t want to talk about it, and I didn’t want […]
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Dreams of Great Import
4am writing ~a moth to a flame ~abandoned clothing ~afternoon doodles ~alone with my thoughts ~Amazon isn't all bad--just half that way ~anger ~Antarctica ~apricots ~awkward ~bad dreams ~bad ideas ~bath ~beautiful people ~Bez ~Bez does have one hell of a milkshake ~Bez is sharing my dream waters ~Bez is sneaky ~Big Sur ~black stones ~Blood and Bone ~blushing ~books ~breakfast ~Brianna ~Bruce Springsteen ~bruises ~butterflies ~can't focus ~Charles Bronson ~Chinese food ~Christian ~chrysanthemums ~cinnamon ~clawfoot tub ~cleanliness ~closer to heaven ~coffee ~coffee and cake ~complicated ~constellations ~cover art ~culinary passions ~currents ~curry
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Sargasso SeaThere is a girl on the beach, nine or ten years old, who reminds me of myself at that age. Her hair is cut in the same pageboy, her face carries the same mixed look of seriousness and wonder. She stands in the sand at the edge of the continent and lets the water wash […]
On the Porch In StockingsDevURLHere is the place that he kissed me, on the lips, and then here again on my cheek, and then here again on the side of my neck, where just below the skin my pulse beat and beat quicker and quicker as his mouth moved over me. There was a roar in my ears like […]
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