and where else to go / but deeper?

My pen's ink wanders and doodles

I remember saying these things 

Hi. My name is…

I’m told my brain was in flames

His Technicolor pictures hang on my bedroom wall.

I’ve been running all my life

The single-room theater was illuminated with / murmurs and movement

This is not loss.

as these beats are wild

Weather permits the unrelated to relate.

the dust in my mouth tastes of tombstones

I am the bird woman from the other side

felt a bit sad for / those poor people in Ukraine

I can smell what you fear

what is this thing we’ve invited into our home

Do one exceptional thing, / which was justice

Money runs through my fingers like water.

these clouds are water, not smoke.

I hear the swoop of wings beating the soft air