Language is a holder and art, a harness. I transmogrify the heaviness of my longing into the lightness of craft, suspending the essence...

To leave something untouched, unspoken. Is this judgement driven by a fear, a logic- calculation? No action (or rather, inaction) seems...

It's a sort of sickness no one can see. Invisible to the naked eye. Take your bloods, check your temperature, shine a torch down your...

So, this was it, the great undoing, the tugging of the threads that had been so finely sewn. All this patchwork beingness, all this...

The only way to describe A mother not for you Is a cosmological headfuck A field of sunflowers, Immeasurable differences. As is nature,...