New memories for dark fields
Our family arrives in the field after dark. Though it isn't really dark—a streetlight illuminates the alley, the sun hasn't quite released the horizon. My children are giddy with invisibility.…
Letter to an old friend (who might contain my younger self)
Dearheart, you're not the person I walked with. It isn't you in this blurred polaroid. Remember: I learned your lips one evening, only that one. How did you become yarn…
You do not need to explain your absences
Sometimes I don't know where I am. I don't know how to describe what I'm doing, the company I'm in. My surroundings don't want to be encased in language. Roots…