body

Fruiting Body | Poetry

Fruiting Body | Poetry

Fruiting Body Sometimes I imagine my body fodder for damp gardens, sunken in the permanent earth. I am not dead weight for trees. Sometimes a carcass is just a carcass. But the soft underside of every alive thing is an offering. Tender bellies up in surrender, supple...
These Stretchmarks | Poetry

These Stretchmarks | Poetry

These Stretchmarks These stretchmarks drink a full glass of water before bed, they want to stand up and stand out in the morning, tired of dimming their light to avoid attention. These stretchmarks don’t pretend, they leave red marks when you want to subtract...