Project Type: Anne's Posts

cinnamon child

I am a cinnamon child. I will not find a way.

cassette tapes

I recorded my childhood homes on cassette tapes but now they bunch together, magnet-distorted. red and blue and brick and green shutters pets, years, cities–ten, four-three-ten, three. my hometown’s diversity drifts in and out as my awareness of it waxes and wanes. braids &…

mountaintop/pinprick

I hate the fragility that causes me to refuse my needs.

listen

do not listen when you are sad, my daughter; wait until you have dried your tears and can laugh again. do not listen when you are angry, my son; wait until you have released your fists and can shake hands again. do not listen…

but the flowers

Flowers so tiny they scarcely seem to exist. A soft breeze bringing a slight chill. Birds huddled in trees, so loud for attention. But the flowers. Ignore the trash, ignore The dead grass and decomposing fruit. Focus on the swaying white snowdrops, The yellow…

mirror

You said you weren’t coming back but I see you in mirror reflections. When I turn round, you Disappear. Within a flaw in the glass, there is a Whispering. I claw at its cracks. You cannot fool me. I am a free soul. You…