Experiments in the Art of Mastering None
I. The hot flow of your hands softens my curled up edges irons the crumpled pages of my little leather notebook. II. Your mouth is a bridge of speech and lightning that shelters my belly from the quake. III. I read the typography of your thoughts on an axis of bent … Continue reading Four Untitled Poems
For as long as I can remember, my relationship to my creative endeavors has been marked by a strong desire to recoil. This is especially true of writing projects, past and present, and very well may include this blog post, which I might never look at again after I hit “Publish” (although, truthfully, this type … Continue reading Flinch.
Taken I want to enter the den of your thoughts Like a snake slips into a birdhouse. I want your fingers to comb my body like a bird, You breathe a ring of smoke encircles my thighs. I want to scale you like a mountain. I want to pulverize you like hot stone. I want … Continue reading Two Poems: “Taken” and “Man at the Bar”
When I think of what it means to “have taste,” my mind immediately conjures images of outward refinement: a shirking of excess, an elevated coolness, and a curtailing of expression, culminating in just the perfect amount of artistic and intellectual snobbery to satisfy one’s professional and social circles. I don’t particularly like that my mind … Continue reading On Taste
I have a difficult time conceiving of my creative and intellectual abilities, or anyone else’s, in terms of distinct aptitudes. I think, instead, that our skills and proclivities are constantly evolving, unfolding, and overlapping in such an untidy fashion that, to define ourselves by a series of clear-cut abilities (and inabilities) can not be only … Continue reading In the Middle
This isn’t a post about beauty standards or body image. It’s a post about coping with the reality that we—both women and men—are constantly subjected to an array of internal and external standards regarding our physical appearance. Some of those standards matter. Others aren’t deserving of our attention (even though ignoring them can be easier … Continue reading Appearances Matter.
I shall call myself the madam of a house of literary prostitution. – Anaïs Nin I am the chattel of the sensual, mistress of the ecstatic, servant of a ripened imagination. I shall call myself a seductress, a courtesan of temptation. I am a voyeur of the most violatory order. I am a maker of … Continue reading Pillow Talk #2: Madam
