16: 9-14-18

evernote: revive/imbibe/sketch/hatch

Maybe healing just feels like dying.
I don’t know what dying feels like but I feel vulnerable and weak, which is okay. I’m not in pain. I’m just experiencing this right now. Things are happening in the world outside and they will continue to happen, I guess.
Grandmothers. Siamese cats. Cacti. They’ll all go on. And eventually I will too.
In my dreams last night I was running. In my dreams, I was swimming lengths and lengths without pain.
Even if it is nearly unbearable, it can still be survived.
We will honor the dead. We will love the dying. We will join them.

14: 12-1-18

evernote: planetary/sedentary/3/free

When I was a kid I believed my world would mutate before my eyes

biking and all of a sudden the Riviera I have seen my whole life would turn a

murky purple



13: 04-08-19

evernote: grow/sow/coax/chokes

your parents car broke down on the highway yesterday, we heard it second hand
then we almost went to bed nobody had spoken to them
since before the tow came
we did the math in our heads just as we were about to call it a night with bile rising in our throats not wanting to say one thing or another before
Anything, nothing, and your dad called.
This was the reality, we breathed, where our parents still came home safe, where our siblings
Broke backs and burst raspberries
Little clusters
My dad was sleeping off a wine dinner in Bordeaux when Nice happened, then again in Villejuif during Paris (the first one).
This time, your dad,
Next time, someone else’s dad, god fucking damn it,
Our terrible dads are too purely singular to die.
It’s his sixtieth soon, I ought
To do something
Even though what I wanted was a poem that would make him cry
when i tried to find the human in her tiger,
Where we all ended up dead but okay.
I can’t believe he wrote me that poem. I wonder if it’s any consolation knowing that if he’s anything like me he also has his secretly festering ones like these, and the ones he shows to the people he loves to tell them that he loves them in a series of analogies and brief fragments.
Castilloniae, parent and pups,
As the plant steps out,
Tentatively, its branches
Spring off.
Christ that’s cheesy as fuck, Christ, there’s no elegance to what I do any more, knowing that there’s no real finesse left in anything anymore, is there?

11: 07-17-18

evernote: to kill/to be killed/to have killed/to thrill

I think you
I think
As tempting as your offer is to reap the benefits of my company while hiding me from your more socially acceptable life, I’m going to have to pass.
As tempting as
Your legacy is a punchline.
It was my mistake assuming you would respond to kindness, seeing as you couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge my first email.
It was my mistake.


10: 04-08-16

evernote: fought/bought/green/ream

The last wolverine in Michigan died
Extinct to the borders
It was like, the ranger recounted,
The death of a close family member.
Although they never met
He knew her gait, the pacing, hunting patterns
The pad of her tracks lost, or maybe on the run
Greener pastures, all that.
Pure Michigan
the scent of synthetic vanilla
Where my only memories are racing down the tarmac
hollering for dear life a bath a foot massage and wet pussy in a penthouse suite for one