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As an Artist, I’m on an Alphabet Soup Diet, and I Am Starving
As an artist, I’m on an alphabet soup diet, and I am starving. I chew and swallow, but the letters get stuck on the way down, caught in a tangle of run on sentences that wraps tighter witheach question mark I dot. The lifting of a spoon to my cracked lips animates my taste buds, but it simultaneously becomes harder to speak through the growing mush of action verbs in…
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Haunted By My Phantom Limbs
When we were children, my friend said that she plucks the legs off spiders and watches them try to dance. Even now when I see a spider, I imagine it with a lack of legs, too small to even bleed, bouncing around like a flea. I think when I was younger somebody twisted off the crown of my head, sank their fangs into my frontal lobe, and screwed it back…