Google Earth erased my home from its maps. One day it was there, the next day it was gone.

We can only have so many concerns I suppose, by back of the envelope, just a few places at once.

a heart can / growl like a stomach, and be so unsettled. I like the / thin veins like a shadow. like rain / tracing trails on a window, as though it weren't sand.

Missing you is like that. / I carry you around, and you follow me. / The sun rises and sets every day, just as I miss you deeply every day.

There was a cabin in the center of a grove. Trees like giants. It looked like they were scraping the sky. This cabin sat right in the middle of a small clearing. Tall ceilings. Big porch. Windows everywhere. It was beautiful. Once a girl found this cabin. It was like finding a gem after picking away at rubble for so long. She quickly settled in. After all, the cabin was empty and looked long forgotten. Also, she had been walking for days and days and days, wandering. It was s

All my herbs and vegetables have sprouted, now, with the exception of the peppers. I am only numb or else in a state of parasympathetic shutdown. Remembering four summers ago, the distance between West and Jefferson just over three miles. I cried. I stumbled down the sidewalk, begging for love to answer on speed dial. Remembering last summer on a friend’s bathroom floor. I cried. I called on repeat, pressed a blue marble in the palm of your hand and begged: please don’t for