Writing

Sit in the cold gray sand. Like a sand crab,

nestle between each grain and wait

for the waves to crash on the shore. Tell me how

the beach is like the sky, a map of tiny things

Remember the old A-shaped house?

The one with the castle downstairs

And the spell around it?

It's empty now.

Did you know that?

The white mouse turns a corner and slides on the cold tile of the kitchen floor. The grey-striped cat follows closely behind, its claws clattering as it chases the quick blur of white.

There was this book

That I used to read

When I was younger

It talked about all these women

All these women

Who did amazing things

I took a walk
through my neighborhood

just like any other walk,
but I noticed so many things.

The plum blossoms in shades of
white and pink were blooming

in the trees along the sidewalk.

The night air is filled with a strange energy. The air is sharp and cuts your skin like a tiny razor.