A meter is defined as the distance light travels in a vacuum in 1/299,792,458 of a second. You have a hundred thousand paper thoughts that hover like it's easy to be weightless. They are deep purple and a blue that doesn't actually exist and there's faded veins of gold, cutting through the whole tilted picture … Continue reading northern lights
If I could write a letter. I'd build a fort around my top bunk, sheets pinned to the ceiling and pillows piled up along the edges, and I'd crawl into the shadowy little fortress and turn on a flashlight and flip to the next empty page in my yellow notebook. I would write to the … Continue reading if I could write a letter
I take a walk in my mother's shoes. My familiar companion, eyes bright with anticipation, pauses just long enough to roll in the soft grass by the gate before she's off to seek out undiscovered treasures. The seven-year-old kid in my mind with unbrushed hair and dirty overalls reminds me to practice walking quietly, letting … Continue reading lightly
It's warm enough to wear shorts outside, humid enough to drench yourself in bug spray (a sick-sweet smell, like overripe apples at the grocery store). All the leftover Halloween candy is nothing but empty wrappers, and as of glancing at the tiny digital clock at 12:32 AM, it's Friday the 13th. There's an office chair, … Continue reading green light
There are eighteen spoons in the kitchen sink tonight. The last one—a line of flowers engraved along its silver handle—slips out of someone's favorite coffee mug and disappears into a white-foamed ocean. Its slow motion rescue occurs in a careless fashion, clumsy fingers reaching blindly through clouded water and grasping at the wayfaring utensil as … Continue reading slow motion
"And when the end of the world comes, will this undersized planet go up in flames like a dying star, or will we hardly have time to blink before it's over?" The steps are too rough for her bare feet. She sits on them anyway, resting her hands against the weed-ridden concrete and smiling as … Continue reading testing the darkness
Here, the grass grows thicker and somehow softer than anywhere else. The pale green stems, tugged away from the earth, would be wide enough to fold into tiny paper (grass?) airplanes, if you knew how to do it right. The sky is crossed with a single power line, three small birds clinging to the wire, … Continue reading gently
Sunday morning, and the roads never had a chance to be silent. Day breaks, light climbing the walls as someone has their first taste of oxygen and someone has their last and the rest keep living in the in between. They're waking up slowly, sheets twisted, sun on the ceiling and the floor and the … Continue reading how to be human
