‘where reality and subconsciousness overlap and everything blends.’
Cubed potatoes, sliced onions—their oil bath
followed by a tender sauna.
Compulsory heterosexuality rots the brain, has rotted my brain. I just wanted to undo, unlive it.
We are bound to nature, worms and dirt, we come from earth, and to earth we will return.
When did writing
become such a warm meeting place?
Hamamatsu: home of unagi pie –– a biscuit made of eel.
Iwakuni: bridge of Samurai –– beer with strangers under blossom.
You die if you worry, die if you don’t. I laughed the first time he said it. I hadn’t heard it before.
We made the heads of Styrofoam
so not to be too heavy on their frail necks.
Hearts? Simply-fashioned, from lumps of stone.
Finding them dead on returning from vacation,
she flushed her six African Cichlids.
The last three nights, I dreamt I was a sail
Lifted, swept and thumped from here to there.
“There’s a certain sort of artifice in my work and the way I use light and scenes because my lighting creates a kind of dreamscape.”
The unconsidered diaries of family life fall open at once favourite recipes,
bittersweet imprints on the page of stained, smeared, sticky memories.