In the Walls

Late one night, or I suppose early one morning, a dream of the usual heartbreak, or of anger, I haven’t quite decided, stirred me awake.  Sluggishly, I tossed and writhed as if suspended in some thick and viscous sap.  Though I’ve never really seen a sloth, I could imagine myself one: moving gradually and in…

laughter

Maybe all our dreams are about those fears, even the ones we smile over that laughter might first sprout from a nervous notion lest something else could flash out: that might it be possible for me to hold something tender that I will come to want so dearly?

Letter to Arij, excerpt

Arij, Is Palestine still in your grips are you managing to keep a hold as it loosening from your fingertips Has your mind been affected by sleep of the hours you stay awake to unfold a package, never knowing what to expect one you’d rather not bother to even inspect, as sometimes oil drips from…