In a cabaret I am myself. There is the dangerous expectation of success of a joke, a note, or a dance, and the reality that you are naked before the audience, and have given them the right to judge the inner most parts of your being.
loose harvest
In another life, I was edible
flowers. I wore a fitted baby tee
that said tubular. It came to define
me. Fingerling sounds dirty—name of a...
Eulogyafter a song by Tool
If I can’t cry for you, how can I cryfor myself? Someday, they’ll find you,lightning burned tongue, wings long pawned,liver...
Preserves
I have an urge to preservetoday, boil the remaining fruitsto their sticky sugars, remove
the pits and seeds, smash fleshadd pectin and lemon juice, pourand...
