art is the deliberate undertaking of
mining the unconscious to a...

… a being in direct conflict with your
own existence; to house the most...

my love,
when y/our world seems barren...

“your clavicle is the horizon
I always swim towards...

the wind stirs again,
coveting lands that have...

I know you tuck away clippings
of chrysanthemums before...

winter begets silence as the sparrows
struggle for warmth, the slowly-dying...

…the stand mixer broke a while back, so
we resort to kneading the dough by hand...

the world breeds wildflowers with
thorns so abundant; you wonder...

colliding ideologies
contradict the two of us...

--
i keep sweating, the air is drenched with...

--
smoldering words ignite again...