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to make it in this worldit is not complicated you need no morethan a little bit of lightand a cat and if you are foreverdoomed to the dark then a light cat will do
scissors small birds on my headeach cut a lesson in letting gomy mother still snips my hairdespite the years of years she hums a song from my childhoodi cannot recallshe says i would look better blonder soon she will stoplater,she will never cut my hair again how will my mane look thenwhere will the ends … Continue reading
it is true that everythingis terrible but look howthe cup holds the tealisten to how loudthe laughter can beand know that somewhereand someplacedespite the darknessand worst oddsa seed has opened undergroundalready blindly searching for the light the only truly terrible thingis to forgetthat these small miraclesare a part of everything too
what if i one day askedyouto tell meabout everythingthat is worth being lovedin this world how much timeand how many thingswould pass beforeyou told me aboutyou
i have been preoccupied recently with measuring the size of all things. for example, my mother’s smile, how the edges of it flutter on the surface of the moon during a spotless night and simultaneously on the bright stage i have walked across during graduation. it is a fascination, a careful, educated observation that all … Continue reading
i am sat down slapped on the back fed beer after beer firmly told that i am a catch there are many women here i am told to look around my belly lurches it is all coming up kacper you will be fine you are fine it is all coming out i return from the … Continue reading
Dear dear, Most of these letters are composed in the dark, one that is singular and shared between us. It smells of you, of a great, blistering absence. It whispers to me what it was to feel your femur in Montreal midnight and how the morning fumbled with your scapula today. The unicelled organism of … Continue reading
Dear dear, In nine months, I am happy to be the first to present to you a healthy, though squawking birth, a weird congratulation for the act of insemination of a thing that is meant to be more than a thing, a failed bird, a busted egg, an omelet if the bird-part sticks faster than … Continue reading
Dear dear, The rain is long and the night is short and I am somewhere in between missing you and remembering you and telling myself that one should never start with rain, especially when we began with a sleek, soaked summer at a bar where the drinks were overpriced and there were far too many … Continue reading
dear dear, the art of art is self-described. i’ve often grumbled this when criticism came around. people could describe anything, feel everything, and yet none of the interpretations mattered for all of them did. art was, i felt, contained in its own corpse and left to die through the living lost. i tend to still … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 