Author Archives: Catastrophe Jones
You didn’t stay the night. (I wanted you to.) All of the aching I have known in the hours, years, centuries I have known you, has been born of those singular desires we’ve been taught we aren’t allowed to have. … Continue reading
[part one] “You!” said Tiri, looking for the voice. “You’re a fish!” “That I am,” said the fish. “You are not.” “No, I’m Tiri,” said Tiri. “Not a fish at all.” “But you are in my waters, Tiri-Not-A-Fish-At-All.” “It’s just … Continue reading
Do you think you are untouchable? Nightly we plan the ways to unravel your skin dismantle the bones of your power and spill the blood of your oppression from the broken statue of your chest Nightly Nightly we weave and … Continue reading
I walked through the falling leaves and tasted the crisp fog and the maple air I ran my fingers over frost stone over spider rope over field lace and sky I did not miss you. I twisted braids of dough … Continue reading
She is drowning (I said) The water closing over her head over her fingertips She is drowning (I said) but the words were lost in the water She was me (I said) No tags for this post.