in between breaths, or pedal turns on the bicycle.
after you watch the bus pass with blurring glimpses of faces amid dirty windows, drizzle.
wonder while you hear an ambulance groan in a doppler drone drifting away.
where is everyone going, and for how long? are the flower petals dropped from trees on the sidewalk soft under the sole of your shoe?
i was born in late october
i ride a bicycle, i praise pie with two hands up, and i work on an ambulance. i squint to see far away. im white and was raised middle class. i am a queer woman with strong midwestern and southern roots.
i made this website to share my thinking; writing about what i see as i bop about.
im convinced we are made of poetry, fibrous as bamboo and quickly growing we are built of tiny bubbling words spilling out of ourselves, woven helpfully into rope ladders thrown body to body. bound up. we are webbed.
BONJOURDI 