On November 28, 2016 In Sloth
White sculptural mass that glances, calls, holds me in its folds. A regression in these hand-stitched entrances. Alone, I indulge. The sound seems connected, then disconnected. Then I don’t hear a thing. I return to my stitched-up bear, perhaps my mother’s womb.
On November 26, 2016 In Sloth
A fabric loved for years, tactile as those sticky notes. Step closer and the materiality changes to a veneer with a fresh dimension. A poem slides its way through the tears of time in this pulled apart white muslin. A fluttered curtain.
On November 21, 2016 In Envy
Man-boy scouting anthropomorphism as a form of understanding the shared self within the newt, the toad, the snake. In uncanny pond magnetics the slimy scale of nonhuman othering. Our self hurts like the clipping of a toe in the name of science.
On November 12, 2016 In Envy
The brutality of meat as family, covered in the beauty of flowers, of stubborn trees. This in a patriarchal hot house that scorches life to death. Perhaps ‘this, finally, might help you understand what the nation really was’ (201). The book closes.