Lockdown Word Vomit

The fan whirs above me, the T-shirt on the drier hangs limp. I need more zing in my writing, I need I need I need something I can’t figure. Can someone tell me, please? Is there anyone else in this room? Are words always this slippery? Are stories suspended from the sky, their tails hanging …

Meet me at the shoulder of the river

Meet me at the shoulder of the river. I will show you how the universe opens itself like a book. You don’t have to know the language, or even the script. Come sit on the banks painted by the first rays of the orange sun. Let your feet dangle in the air, let the distant …