Month: May 2024
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roadtrip
that word. rattles its own corner of personal history with a particular kind of longing. not for time or place but for renditions of self, roads not taken. and so, its top note is familiar, but i can’t place it; is it middle school? high school? or i suppose it may be tucked down there among the blurred haze of tender shards…
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a mother’s love
it doesn’t have to make you hard it can make you soft, it can soften you still just as different water runs the same rock over & again and over & again you are proof, existential pudding that our existence can exist without the love, without the esteem of our mothers it’s unnatural sure and not without…
santos scribes 