the cave

a cave formsin the forest.sometimes, in her modest moodsshe calls it a backyardbut miles offlora isn't a yard. she takes a backpack andlaces up hiking shoes.if she walks too fastthey clip at her anklebone.sometimes, the bruiseslast for days. if the weather permitsshe reaches the cave,half-formed though it is.when she first came hereit didn't existand she …

after midnight

at 2 a.m., there's totalstillness.the curtains are drawn,heavy and thick, blocking outall light. in the quiet of the cottagethere's no stimuli.no traffic, no sirens rushing bysetting the night alight withcoloured noise. outside a cicada chirpsthen falls silent. there's nothing. in the bleak dark of nightthere's nothing to see,no need for pretension.no need to do anything.

the lamb

she draws up herbattle plan,pulls on cloak and hood. she writes,cataloguing a long listof disapprovers. they allhave one thing in common:when pressed, they findsomething to changeabout her. she makes her list,checks it over.no need to add spelling and grammar,syntax,to her list of repairable traits. she inlays a ruleof thirty-three. this, she once readis how long it …

ongoing

there's forty-one emailsunread in my inbox.on my phone, five new voicemailsgo unheard, unanswered.the number stays undialled. three tweets - a quiet yell with the@and two instagram likes.it's all going on the tally. there's real perseverance,i will concede that.this is a waiting gamefor a reason though. what that reason is,i still don't quiteknow. so far, i'm patient. calm.so …

conquer

the world narrows downto a mess of straightlines.everything is neat in itsplace. every box is neatlylabelled,tucked away for future reference. in place of a whirlwind,there's a series oflinear progressions.they tell some story,somehow.viewers are never surewhat the story is,but they know it'sthere. and underneath it all,there's someonewatching theprogressions. a whirlwind becomesspatial awareness becomesneat organized lines,and it is conquered.

settling in

the house is quiet,built after several bitter monthsof designing and planning.every feature is carefullycurated, placed to be clever. sometimes, in the evenings,it settles.floorboards creak undera phantom's step;wind whistles through windows thatneed sealing up. winteris on its way,after all. at night, she settles in withbooks and tea,a teapot perched nine preciseinches away. later still,when it's midnight, …