When is it that the heaviness does not come? When the sky is indeed cloudless blue, so the legacy of knowledge can be unsightable everywhere? This is why I cannot speak: I have been living everyday in order to feel light. In all ways, I fail. Something tells me that this is the wrong way to do…

Lost in translation but the translations are there in your house, under your bed, singing in the morning when the rooster croons by your window, perhaps on the aluminum roof, or perhaps everywhere. you do not hear them. it’s 4am and you’re still asleep, the words are decoding themselves all through the dawn…

I had a dream where a man followed me around, closely, grabbed me,
or maybe my butt. In the dream I am wildly furious but coherent, and more at ease than I expect myself to be. I am stunned by my anger, this forwardness, this absolute claiming of wrath. In my dream I am not afraid. Nothing is too big, too…

We are two tents facing each other in all the rooms we enter

We take our hauntings off our bed
And into restaurants and bodegas where you feed me
and I laugh into your ears

Americano Café

Visiting my boyfriend
At the coffee shop where he works
The window is open unto the street
I hear the rustling of paper
And keys
From the passersby
The space between the width of the window frames
swollen with
Jangling voices berating
The sidewalk
or sisters who forgot to pick up
the cake for the birthday