where will immortal people go when the world ends?

asking for a friend.



I looked in the mirror yesterday, and just for a moment, I thought I glimpsed a person in there that I had never seen before. I knew her eyes: they were brown-black, just like mine, but I didn’t know a single other feature. Not the nose, not the shape of her cheekbones, not the curve of her forehead, not the curl of her hair, not the mole on her ear, not anything I see today. 

I looked in the mirror yesterday, and I only saw you.



home is feeling

like yawns can be
stretched out, full
sometimes with a roar
and a shake of the head.

home is knowing

the shape of the ceiling
even in the dark
even in your dreams
even when you've been away
for months and months and months.

home is comfort

in sadness and loneliness
music at the right volume
a clock, eight minutes fast
familiar awkwardnesses
and all the right wrongs.


for m and me, for leaving and coming back.


legitimate career choice

i should write love letters for a living.

someone want to pay me?

i'm pretty good.



an audience of one

i'd rather write
pages and pages
of plotless prose
but i'm afraid
even i
wouldn't read it.


"An audience of one?"

"That's all she needed," she said. "That's all anybody needs."

- from bluebeard, kurt vonnegut.