Author: Rebecca

  • Journal of a pulsing womb of eternal shape who works at a Starbucks in upstate New York

    Rebecca

    You’re so funny! Spicy today! And my heart beats so frantically I can feel it behind my eye sockets, pulsing, pushing blood and confusion into my tear ducts which feel now like little galaxies at the mouths of black holes, on the verge of being swallowed up into an unnamable void, leaving behind no trace… Read more

  • Dignity

    Rebecca

    have you ever watched an animal?the way they do anything is sounselfconscious, visceral,clean of dignity’s grime.today a squirrelplayed in my yardand I watched,its joypure. I am told the laughter of deaf folksis pure like this. guttural joy,unrestrained, open-mouthed, dumb,for nobody to hear—a noise that is madefor its own sake.prying earslistenthough. now I am aware of… Read more

  • “What do you feel your constitution is? What did you come in with?”

    Rebecca

    A fat white baby with a red face is born. Nearly ten pounds! Her mother has been eating a lot of nutrients because her father has been sitting her down every night, feeding her biscuits dense with these nutrients. The baby’s name is Rebecca and she weans very early. Her mother’s breast is too simple.… Read more

  • At a life drawing class woman in a yellow dress poses with a lamp and I sketch a poem in her likeness

    Rebecca

    Ing of the lamp Quirkily extenuatingAt an angle to the sun—Confusional is me or even IExternal to the fingersThat extendUnder lamps and into lingers.At a lampening, how many bulbsCan change a me into an I?Underneath the yellow is A kindredness congruent. Afterwards, a man Bifocals and two bandaids and a glass of awkward wineMaking teeth and… Read more

  • Is this what my blog is for?

    Rebecca

    Journal, 11/12/24- What an illusion it has been to hear voices. Give a deaf mind sound after thirty years and the mind is still deaf. To access something is not, necessarily, to be able to bear it. To not feel intruded upon by its sudden availability. And to hear someone speak is not necessarily to… Read more

  • A swath of solitude

    Rebecca

    If money were no object, I would buy solitude,A swath of solitude,And decorate it to my liking. In this solitude I would rest my levity,Create my own gravity,Draw my own celestial bodies, And let myself be rearranged by their magic. With levity would be brevity—Nesting in recoveryFrom other gravities that are not my own.I would rest… Read more

  • In which I think I am on the surface but time and depth creep up on me

    Rebecca

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    Journal, 3/13/22- Things do not enter into me so deeply lately. I feel like I am wrapped in Formica. Absent is reflection, or at least its automaticity, and absent is the glaring, glaring, glaringness of what lies beneath, of what is under things. I am so buoyant! How strange. My dream last night was complex,… Read more

  • Thoughts I do not have time to finish thinking

    Rebecca

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    Journal, October 2024: “…dreams are not prophetic in the predictive sense, in that they tell the future. But there is something of a prophecy in the way they reveal the present. By revealing the present, there is something new to understand about both the past and the future. Prophecy, an “inspired utterance.” Inspired by what?… Read more

  • I don’t know where to begin

    Rebecca

    I am afraid I might grow EdenIf I plant the seed of an apple treeAnd a tulip,A few blades of grass, Worms to feast on the dirt—That my landscaping might grow so lush As to tempt the sin of mankind. I am afraid I might terraform a mountainWith the sheer weight of my gravity—Unearth dirt,Mold it to… Read more