Whitened beauty

Here terrible stumps of whitened beauty splintered and cracked, until she lay down and looked up through the network of gray lichen and branches and slept a while.

This post is part of my book-long erasure poetry and collage project on Tove Jansson’s The Summer Book.

Balance

It tried to grow directly into the teeth of every storm, crouched and twisted, the balance between survival and extinction so delicate.

This post is part of my book-long erasure poetry and collage project on Tove Jansson’s The Summer Book.

Happy New Year

They said the door is always open on to the horizon.

This post is part of my book-long erasure poetry and collage project on Tove Jansson’s The Summer Book.

Rowan tree

One time I woke up and remembered the cold underground room, trunks and chests and boxes with gaping lids filled with coal-black shadow, a rowan tree growing through the ceiling.

Glide (with eyes open)

You glide with eyes open, the weariness still afraid of deep water.

This post is about that feeling when you’re doing a little better, and you’re not sure how much you can handle, but you want to try. And you’re scared of overdoing it, making yourself worse again. This is about living with a constant fear, and blaming yourself when things go wrong, even though it is mostly out of your control. But you’re also hopeful and you want to enjoy every little gain to the fullest.

A big hole

A big hole, big enough for all of us, swayed back and forth with the movement of the sea.