I fell on one of the final days of the third month. It didn’t hurt, no one said anything, not even the trees. I wasn’t expecting them to. I was a bit sad but not scared. I could be part of the trees now, of the soil and the earth. But I would miss my friends regardless.
Read MoreUnfortunately, it wasn’t quite as romantic as we’d intended. The wind was sharp, and we weren’t dressed for the weather. We shut your car’s doors with overenthusiastic thuds and stretched our aching legs, only to find our breath coming out in bursts of mist. It wasn’t long until we started shivering.
Read MoreThe day, far buried in the past, which started - and ended - everything. They remember the pain that followed in the days and years afterward, the pain that still rolls through on the first day of spring and cold winter mornings and September nights spent on park benches.
Read MoreA Woman writes on Paper. That Paper rests on a Board. She writes a Poem.
In her inscription, she articulates her hatred for the Moon.
