I am cousin to the sun, a hired cure for darkness. My fingers busy as rain. In my palms I hold an invisible, melancholy silence, a violin with no strings. I stretch and preen in the shadows, a pensive, swivel-hipped owl. I’ve crawled into crawl spaces thinner than a thimble. I finger the wormy wires, … Continue reading The Electrician
by Alexandra van de Kamp →

The body jackknifes—buckles like a dark road and each thought unfolds: a relaxing piece of crumpled foil. The trees are fastidious detectives late for a luncheon and checking their pocket watches. It rains for the umpteenth time, like an aristocrat lounging on an heirloom couch. Looming things can kick and scratch. Last night my writing … Continue reading Sleep: An Update
by Alexandra van de Kamp →