wanderlost

she flicks the mapthat takes up one-third ofwall space.on her desk, there's aspinning globe: sometimesshe taps it to set it rotating. unfocuses her eyes and lets the worldblur past. she makes a list,writing alphabetically,reverse-alphabeticallyand flips it around again. scrambles the order, calls uponline travel literature. in the evening shecrams in language, makesflashcards of grammar. she'll go …

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 …

in infinity

she dwells ininfinity. the world isold, new -wildly changing. shemakes no effort tofind one safe place. instead, she roams:goes wherever soundsinteresting atpresent. she doesn't ever staylong enoughto make ahistory.(prefers to cyclethroughpeople and apartments) each year she'sdisplaced,discomforted - -and everytime she is ablank slate.(no-one knows herin her entirety,after all) and so it goesthat she callsmany placesher …

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 …

tea kettle

water drips down the side of the tea kettle as it fills under the tap, making a quick hissing  sound as it's placed on the stove-top to boil. the condensation forms fast, tiny water drops spilling over and slicing ribbons through the sheen of water. in the next room, she's talking. she hisses an emphasis …

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 …

in transit

she's a wanderer. she leaves traces of herself everywhere that she goes, trailing bits of forgotten stories like silk scarves trailing on the wind - perfume hangs in the air when she exits a room, toothbrushes bought in bulk and left like some sort of dental gingerbread path. in the evening is her favourite time of the …

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.