It is secret best when it is hidden in a few unknown vicinity This whole advent is split into many layers Guy’s life is cozy inside the house called body. Some hidden stories, most of the layers of books chest Someone’s thoughts, his faults, are…

Em(   )ment   The body is a temple / old house / balloon visions of self/future/health always getting stuck in the attic / helium / throat  And the spirits / cobwebs / voices won’t let them sink down any lower   The body never…

On the Grandma and grandpa’s farm, there was a wooden chair that spent about half its life outside and the half on the back porch. It had no varnish or paint left on it.  It wasn’t worth the trouble to make it look good. My…

Closet turns into schrank, placard, aron, and armario, all masculine nouns in German, French, Hebrew, or Spanish– but deconstructed, différance in hiding places vanish, even if labeled armoires, lockers, or just cupboards, yet a clean, tidy closet is often its own reward, while secrets festering…

in between “it’s in between,” they said when I asked where the centre is in this wandering in wonder but I don’t know if I know what that really means. is it the light or the dark? or neither or both? or all? all…in those…

Mirrors and silhouettes dance, begging a chance. Figmants and phantoms. The draw such sweet utterance. Steeling my breath. Crying for death. Words pulled against their will from willing lips. Unable to resist. On promises sip. Ringing with whispers against the panes of reflective glass.

Nan warned us about it she told us we should only think of clothes whenever we opened it Or we would be taken to whatever was on our minds We believed it to be a fairytale, but we followed her advise nonetheless should there be…

An Old Home By American standards our home is old, created from old growth forests of oak and poplar on site one hundred and seven years ago, while the war to end all wars raged on foreign shores. Its wooden floors slope gently downhill, spiderweb…

Silhouette.   I have refused to take the form of All the chalked outline of my father’s broken accent. Substitute (h) with (aw)—confuse me, aw do you do this With so much ease? I contour my weightlessness in pronouncing all the heavy Things my colonizers…

I am watering moms plants With a dark blue watering can The water level is a guess until it empties And the growth it gives is a wait and see This is what knowing you has been like The fullest I’ve ever been Until your…