hospital
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Meditation
We looked up as we moved. A handful of stars watched us behind a ripped black canvas of clouds. It started to rain as we all got to our cars. The skies poured down globs of heavy rain that burst…
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The Sunday Rumpus Essay: Losing at Memory
But I didn’t understand, then, how important memory is, for how do we know who we are without memory? How does anyone else know who we are, but for their memories of us?
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Boy of My Youth
In my desperate attempts to keep my secret I learned to shut everyone out, to become as closed as a fist.
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Past the Break
Past the break lies motherhood as I understand it: the rawest life that lifts and falls and crashes against beauty, and the eternal potential for heartbreak.
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: The Leaving Deficit
Feathers are a gift and flexible protein. Mom put down tobacco and ran her fingers over its exposed parts. She told me the salmon run is coming and this bird would have wanted for nothing.
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Out of Order
In summertime, a small group of white, middle-aged, well-educated men were obsessed with my ass.
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This Is Not a Story About a Ghost
This is a story about memory. About neurons misfiring, about the strange space between dream and awake, that feeling, when I’m falling asleep, of falling backwards, swinging my arms up to catch myself.
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Breaking and Burning
They pin him down and I stick him. I am relentless. This disease is relentless. And I am so pissed off.
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Keeping Secrets from the Stupid
I was four years old when my mother taught me to lie. There were certain instances, she explained, when lying was acceptable, when it wasn’t even lying, really.
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Prescribing Poetry with Pills
There are things poetry can do and things it can’t. And while my aim is to ease suffering, sometimes the work is to be with it. Finding the words to console someone ill or grieving is an intensely complicated process.…
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Ursa Major
Last month a bear ripped into my tent, clenched his teeth onto my upper left arm, just below my shoulder, and would not let go.
