Textures and structures from the last frolic before Joanne and Ivanne left Toronto, of Tommy Thompson Park on the Leslie Spit.
and so i was. and after the rooms were unlocked and the books had been deciphered, i wanted to love me too. and so i became a question. stepped back into unsolved.
A Visual Poem Collaboration with Lucy Lu
so I crushed my chest into rubble,
waited on the moonlight to soften the ruin.
This makes me think about my hand, which although relatively fair for a Southeast Asian, is definitely not a white hand. Then I think of all the nonwhite hands holding books, and all the nonwhite hands writing books, and I put Old Goriot away for a while.