I didn’t know why I was doing it at the time, but something had short-circuited inside me and I now lived for these plants
Cease, seize, seizure, caesura: These are words I want to use when trying to describe the blank spaces within a line, a night, a life
I thought the activism I wanted to be a part of was more powerful in Washington D.C. or Oakland, but L.A. kept pulling me back
I’m supposed to believe my womanhood is ending but instead, I have been handed a new beginning
An obit’s very form announces its most important news. This first, crucial piece of information is already redundant
I wish I could give back my blood and start over as someone who didn’t inherit sexual violence
I've always had a close and at times uncomfortable relationship with milk and its associations
Every apocalypse, even the small ones, makes us ravenous for closeness
As I transition toward the masculine, my feelings about resembling an instrument modeled after the female body continue to shift
Even in death, I can only imagine my parents exactly as they were in life
Based on what America has provided a foreigner like me, I want to believe this country can shine its grace on those who have rarely felt it
I fear I'm more like my father and Monsieur Bovary—the less interesting character whose suffering doesn't matter
Thank You!