and fear as the lullaby of childhood. the sugar glazing on buns and birthday cakes; a tinkle adjacent to the voice; the crisp in love songs; a powder a vapour lingering after embrace, and embrace. a parfume enclosing changing choppy homes. the direction home; of candy; of infinite devotion. of prelude of separation and acquired courage of modesty. and embrace and embrace
writings
From studies
04.27.2016
— that each life. is a komet moving, flashing. flare up. collide. beauty tabs out behind
04.01.2016
—said. water, tell me more of water. (that) fills up the great lake (that) breaths. the bear river makes it breathing. tell me the names (that) bear river speaks to come down to fill the salt lake to make it breath, mixing freshwater with its brine (mud flats south bay north bay wellsville cone cottonwood creek soda springs muddy creek cokeville twin creek new canyon withney canyon needles creek mill creek hayden peak)
03.27.2016
these are the words lost so far: familiefest søndagsstel udsigttårn hjemvendt nedfalden roemark sjippetov hovedskald sukkerskål gyngehest samlebånd havørn hættemåge pinsesol dansemyg bortfaldet nedtagen hundeangst lillebælt nordhavn
03.06.2016
• the hair is like hair. and she lifts up the hair with lazy hands while i watch and the robe is rotting and she lifts up the cloth and the skin falls down and down and down as i am the lover and rise from her womb who never will carry a foetus the spilling of blood was like blood coagulating in dreams she’s forgetting as youth i shall always know you she says her knowing is like knowing. she holds with her heart as a womb and lazy coagulating my love as i am the leaver and she is…
02.19.2016
en slags mænd i skjorter med lange sørgetunger om halsen og manchetknappernes figure lyner i solen — detonerer bag øjnene alle tilstedeværende er levende — der også er døde en dag at kroppe har ebbe og flod, at…
02.09.2016
— today corrals grows out of my chest. they start as itching rash — resembling that of — sore swollen girl nibbles that will develop to breast between the body’s age of nine and twelve years old (1984 until 1987*) — today corrals grows out of my chest — breaks through the surface of my skin like a sea disappearing — they heap up through this tide — a burial shrouds on my body. rise and fall with the breath and corrals emerge — more — for each exhale. for you. for you
01.22.2016
to be i and alone and that i can’t breath right to stop writing. the thing the letters saying l o n e l i n e s s to can’t hold fear anymore or get any older, since i am a c h i l d to watch the snow cling to the mountains the wind lifting upwards to watch dead fox getting eaten by big bird sitting on it’s head to watch dark tumbleweed’s obstructed fluctuations in fences to recall prior traveling. with h a p p i n e s s this one is fiercer or raw to watch and weep over…
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