late summer birthday-sketch between-the-floorboards under-the-roof before the mirror against a background of dry-air, sticky-air, burning branches singed into clothes.


She said this week that I ought to put some kind of word on the page – some way to recognize and decipher. She said it makes it easier. A lack of words is a barrier to entry. A word acting as a placeholder. Speaking and not making anything more clear. Thats how I often feel when I speak. Some marker, some symbol – Believe me I don’t know what it means anymore so I can’t provide a symbol to decipher. Its just there, whole, not lacking.