Screenwriter

                                                   . . . Stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes were dark                                                  pits and my gums had turned a pulpy red. I seemed to                                                  be looking at the portrait of   a man who hadn’t eaten a piece of fruit in years—he’s skeletal but somehow large. Reaches for me as I go to…

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Childbirth

  Here is how it ends—the whale departs from its shell and there is a curve of body and blood, a trail of the mother’s womb. Counterpoise: the redistribution of weight and water—for a moment, you can see the sea rise—and then, the equilibrium. Cell-like, and I see the earth growing smaller.    

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Dinosaur Bone

  You brought it home, yellow with age and old ligament, and propped it up in the entryway of our home, next to the umbrellas. This led to the making of soup and a long discussion about death. I asked, Can we just pretend for a moment that all we have to do to survive…

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Safe Word

  Let’s try this again—instead of walking down a dirt road, we’re walking down a path in the park. We’ve ditched the apples, and we’re eating fall leaves. And instead of telling you I love you, I’ll tell you I never did. And you’ll be quiet, because you’ll know. Because I don’t love you. Not…

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November Daily

  In the past, I’ve always found myself attempting to complete the task that is NaNoWriMo (National Novel-Writing Month), always with very minimal success. What is interesting is that I find out every year, maybe two or three days before the month is over, that a “poetry version” of NaNoWriMo has been in progress while…

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