. The rain is coming down. It pours like a pitcher of water on the roof, pouring, and pouring, and pouring. We are underwater. I am the goldfish in the rain barrel, here is my lichen-covered stick. I eat mosquito larvae to live. This bed is a ship, a grassy plain, an inland tundra. It … Continue reading yes
everything
Everything that’s wrong
This morning I straddle my bike and ride to Sellwood, eleven miles with the wind at my face. My naturopath meets me at the door with a hot cup of nettle tea, invites me into her stucco kitchen, toys strewn across the floor. You see, my child has been playing. Then we sit at her … Continue reading Everything that’s wrong
What is it
What is it, to know the value of a thing? What is it, to crush a bit of western redcedar in your hand and smell everything you’ve been missing, and everything you’ve ever wanted, besides? One full moon, one unbroken block of time? A week without anxiety? Your guts like a grandfather clock, time immemorial, … Continue reading What is it
why I can’t focus on anything
It would make sense, these days, for me to be writing. I am so full of love, filled up with companionship, my larders stocked with beautiful things. Sleep is furiously regular, easy, and alarmingly restful- the dark of my shack, my ten hundred blankets, the long-bodied cellar spiders that leave their dim corners and dance … Continue reading why I can’t focus on anything
after you left
After you left, I fell back asleep. To the sound of rain on the metal roof, the infinite gray like predawn skies that stretch into the afternoon, the faded light through the green gauze curtains, the low window shaded in the raspberry canes. The whole world was singing me a lullaby- tap tap, pitter patter, … Continue reading after you left
i went shopping
P U R C H A S E D: A pair of boat shoes, new-old, brown leather, dark and soft, unintentionally like moccasins, with stiff laces that betray their poor quality, although I suspect that all shoes, good and bad, come from the same place; the place of plastic and glue; and they are scented … Continue reading i went shopping
after eating
After eating I feel fatigued (don’t ask why) and so instead of going to hip-hop dance class I lay in the hammock and try and soak up the beauty as much as I can, I am too tired to read my book about birds’ nests in winter. The sun is warm and damp and angled … Continue reading after eating
Dream
Dream We were on the rushing beach, in the pitch dark, the milky way above us, the great river of stars- and squatted on our heels, where the tide met the dry sand, and I was piling wet stones in your fingers- and the night was endlessly dark, and empty- empty! And I knew that … Continue reading Dream
Anonymous father
Anonymous father let me be your prodigal son I need a bucket for my inspiration an alley milk-crate a paint bucket a vessel I need something to hold it if you are my training wheels, I can’t bicycle without you you are the unexpected warmth of ten hundred suns you are my sudden good fortune … Continue reading Anonymous father
What it feels like to be stoned
Jack was at a party in the woods, and there was no-one in the whole world that she wanted to talk to. The sky was a bright, billowy grey, and it rested like a solid thing, tiredly glowing, on the needley tops of the spruce trees. Before her was a picnic table and a blackened … Continue reading What it feels like to be stoned
CARROT QUINN 
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