Remember when I was like, “Ah yes, I’m aiming to have this book published by the end of August?” Then remember how that didn’t happen? Well here we are almost a month later, and So Speaks the Ruinous Light is finally ready! Today I skimmed through the proof copy, then approved it for distribution onContinue reading “The Book Is Ready”
Tag Archives: poet
out the door
I am grateful for Simone burning my hair off so it didn’t end up as stone, I am grateful for my sea god genes so only
Cavalier Spirit
How much a soul worth? Well easy, we just say a spirit worth a bag of M&M’s, but when shipped from halfway ‘cross the world and in a foreign script, that bag’s a little less, easy to forget. Age makes ’em stale, makes ’em trash. A bag of blue-eyed M&M’s matters more, but a bagContinue reading “Cavalier Spirit”
to break a curse
The rats and I had agreed I would break their curse and they’d let me free. Of course, they never
Every Seed/a World
My body is an earth of liquid with its oceans rising, the cool detachment apathy is melting
Testing Anxiety
Pressure to perform no pleasure or conform sure, my soul’s a storm in every heated prickle of my skin, the thoughts swirling up my brain (like this thought (and this thought too ( this thought (and this thought too( PARENTHESES BREAK))) psychoanalyze the direction my iris flies can’t escape the way my gaze slides downContinue reading “Testing Anxiety”
I’m starting a youtube channel
Like, for real, I actually am. Here’s the first video:
in 3 years’ time
in three years I think I aged twenty, from a little girl to a teen in ratty clothing and poorly brushed hair. But I learned runes,
I keep calling for this rain
If you quell the pain, prickles remain, and I feel so detached from the past, I could be a stranger in the memories of danger, like they burn a different skin. I wanna heal from the thunder squeal, but my midnight brain plays the game “How can we twist imagination’s eye to warp this pictureContinue reading “I keep calling for this rain”
Ruse/never lose
“It seems we’re at an impasse,” the blankets told the rats, “I won’t free you until you promise to let us out that door.”
Jordyn Saelor 