Poetry & Prose


I am starting to see visions
I am learning to see words
these will speak
as I simmer and quake

raspberry and cherry taste the same in meditation
and I like the feeling of the smooth rim of escalators
as we ride up in dirty lighting
swish swish

luscious words
wander whistle whim whale
and once, I was the whale—Jonah called to me
and I spit him out, sang him out into the sea

I like biting my lips,
letting the words build up to the cusp until they brim over
and pass from one universe to another,
translating my own dialect into the one they all understand

and now I tumble into the dinette,
the rocking makes something spill out of me like cereal into cold milk
and bathes each bite in wet, soggy meaning—
“good morning” in this language

Photo by Christine Balcer.

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