Call me love. Call me baby. It's a drug that stays in the system; after the high, after the fall. You wake up in the ER dazed and calling out for the thing that put you there. What's that about? Shoot me with a needle, swallow all the pills, and it won't change anything. I will... Continue Reading →
I'm about to buy a book of poetry. This week I discovered Sierra Demulder. Her book is We Slept Here.
By Jolie Mason I keep one foot in two countries, Like Belgium and the Netherlands. One foot in the future. One firmly in past. It’s less a matter of can’t decide, More a place to dodge, to hide. If the choice isn’t made, I simply adopt the customs that get me by. The language I... Continue Reading →