dust is mostly made of human skin

dust is mostly made of human skin — remember how to blow dust away. depression is just letting dust stay. (settling, settling) maybe happiness is clean and tidy like effort. like joy. or messy bright maybe like Holi and gardening but not dusty. never covered in a fine layer of human skin. look everyone in the eye think of anything to say on a sign … Continue reading dust is mostly made of human skin

just trying to figure out who i am

-girl (worse pay cuter butt) -anxious (once an evolutionary advantage) -white (privilege, loss of humanity) -bad at keeping plans, telling jokes -good at wandering, and words -pretty eyes -sun worshipper -lost -child -sister -(shitty)friend -lover -cat parent -woodsy I wonder if writing something takes away its power. like how naming something is a de-mystifying, a form of control. i am writing to get back power. … Continue reading just trying to figure out who i am


when i was younger, i remember my dad and my mom both explaining why they were too tired to read but not too tired to watch tv. i do not remember what they said exactly, just the sense that 8 hours at a desk made word processing in the evening painful rather than fun or relaxing. zoning out in front of another screen was easier. … Continue reading tgif

sean king in alaska

sean king spoke in alaska he said see the problem is we confuse technological advances for social progress. we assume that over time, humanity keeps getting gentler; that over time, we learn from our mistakes. we don’t. not always. right now we are near the valley. right now, there are more incarcerated people than any point in all of human history. right now, being black … Continue reading sean king in alaska

love poem #261

In yoga class on the 1st of the year, minutes after the sun finally rises in Alaska — 10:30 a.m. — the teacher tells us about the importance of precision over perfection. The difference, she explains, is that when you are precise, you are fully present. All you have to do is concentrate. Everything real happens in this moment. Focus. It was a helpful reminder … Continue reading love poem #261

before the melting

He’s not much taller than me and when he holds me I think about wholeness even though i was whole already. Kissing him coincides with the coming of winter. By morning he is scraping frost and i am drinking the dregs of a kombucha. Sorry I waited so long to kiss you, he says, kissing me. I wonder if I should be afraid that he … Continue reading before the melting