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writing
A memoir of recovery from childhood trauma, told through poetry, experimental writing, surrealism, and occasional art and music.
34 posts
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Open the Cage Door
I'm on a short bridge, standing on a milk crate for a better view. A tribe of gorillas…
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the garden snake
I.
the two boys
the garden snake
the sun dried wood
the long stretch
the measure
II.
I remember
on…
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The Life of Jesus as a Religious Paranoic
glorious baklava, ex libras, hep hey, ad infinitum…
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The Clearing
He steps off the path and into the trees, carefully stepping around briars and broken branches. He continues until he finds a small clearing. He looks back to be sure it’s far enough from the trail to be safe – to be unseen.…
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Pumiquat
he never spoke to me again. without explanation, i knew how to say the word. pumiquat. it's not what you think. nor what you expect. it's a secret. i've only told you the part that you're allowed to know…