September 11, 2017

Where’s my independence?

1947 brought a different independence

Than the novella in my head:

Where heroines dressed like themselves

But were accorded the valor of heroes.

Where an aimless drifter was a woman with matted hair

But the word “witch” did not exist in village air

Wh...

September 8, 2017

The Hanging Man

I look at the bat

but he doesn’t look at me

it’s August 

and things are breaking.

I put an egg in a cup

my neighbor’s daughter gives me basil

I cry, with no reason or want.

Desire is dead,

and my arms hang by my sides

like two gently loosened threads.

I look at th...

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