Tag Archives: home
house.
there is a spoon in my house that isn’t really a spoon at all. it isn’t mine; it was just here when i moved in & probably belongs to my roommate. anyway the spoon is mostly flat. it still functions … Continue reading
Filed under monologue
after all.
i woke up & didn’t know where i was. i have been here before. the door should not be here, it should be there by the window. (no, two days later, i remember, it was always there.) i found myself … Continue reading
Filed under monologue
bangs.
i cut the bangs back again. i don’t know how to do anything else. sometimes i try for a few months to let them grow out, to grow up, but there’s no point. and everytime i cut them again i … Continue reading
Filed under monologue
um camping.
i went camping a couple weeks ago & it was totally rad. it made me want to do a million things differently because for two tiny days that’s how they were done. i smoked quietly and alone, hidden in the … Continue reading
Filed under monologue
baseball.
one of my fish pretends to be asleep in the front of the tank, he is only really sleeping when he is at the back with the other side by side facing in opposite directions and it’s a trick like … Continue reading
Filed under monologue
frame.
in a frame on my desk you’re drinking from a forty ounce bottle of unrealistically bad beer, you are the only one (looking into the camera) and the glass is heavy her torn tradition built, rebuilt itself two hours south … Continue reading
Filed under poem tree
dinner.
draw signs in garbage only, traced beneath the pulse of electricity, lift bridges next to smokestacks, where we lived and used to search beyond the smog across the lake, to see toronto it was a long drive and coming promise … Continue reading
Filed under poem tree
so happy :)
the view from my dad’s old rooftop, looking east towards the end of the valley. it’s a little homesick, maybe, but i know i can’t go back. so it’s different this time. the rest of the pictures are here: dundas … Continue reading
Filed under monologue
dundas.
present. everyone was dancing in the parking lot of mac’s milk and there was a sing-a-long, or something, but i can’t remember the song. i had asked you for something, like change for a coffee or a cigarette and you … Continue reading
Filed under monologue
left without.
his sprawling awning hangs, wrong degrees on broken arms or knees left without skin, metal shifted with the rain, the screen can’t close since summer it stands open to the porch
Filed under poem tree
