deep seat

I fell asleep in the passenger seat you were next to me one hand on the wheel while the concrete overpass glowed in the afternoon light and i felt safe encased in steel. when I woke you were singing softly wondering when your love would return I tried not to move wondering if you’d noticed I was back on earth. »

back & forth

a new year scanning a roll of film in one room an old Field Mice album plays in another memories slightly removed a chance meeting and a twinge of regret resolution is just out of reach »

movement

I wanted to go for a walk after dinner but I feared the waves might overtake me somewhere out on an empty street washing me up, bug-eyed and confused in somebody’s driveway. things aren’t like they used to be I’m at war with my body but it always has the last laugh. »

Author image cos

the map is not the territory

being there isn’t the same as thinking about being there it’s hot and most times you’re not entirely sure what’ll happen next. your vocabulary is limited to simple things and it seems everything takes forever. some moments you feel you may actually die from worry but when you’re back home idly tapping your desk at work on a stuffy afternoon you’ll wish you were anywhere but here. »