change is not a swift thing, but a stagnant or slow-moving pond, accompanied by the cracking of dry sticks or bones. there are setbacks....

i. here is the vast sea of winter, and my heart is a tiny stowaway. planks creak and nag, beams shift and i draw deep lines with my...

please, don't fight. just listen. you owe it to me. when i breathe, i deflate. without you here, i don't know when to sleep, or wake up....

tell me about the cold, i say. you cannot fathom the sounds; or the vast, blue distances that compose her working memory. she speaks to...