When I listen to music, it moves through me because it has to. The soundwaves hit my ears, and my body decides where it needs to go next.
Read MoreThe artist’s dictum “trust your materials” only started to make sense in collage, with strange fabrics and colors and patterns coalescing in startling meaning.
Read MoreBut for three minutes and 23 seconds, that magic stretch of a song where my poem lives as both love letter and record player, synaesthesia is more like a bridge.
Read MoreMy grandmother introduced the piano to me through AM radio. She didn’t know piano, but she knew piano.
Read MoreIs the sforzando the registration or the dread?
Read MoreWe said to the universe: Please drive faster. Said: Wait up, disaster! Maybe we have an inkling of what we’re summoning even as draw the circle on the floor.
Read More& now, spinning in the center of pandemic, what is celebration in an era of loss? Of isolation? She said resilience. I heard re-silence.
Read MoreThere is magic in the dissonance.
Read MoreWhen I think of the word hag, I think of the greying light beyond the horizon before a storm. I think of possibility hanging heavy in the air.
Read MoreOur lives are composed of cycles within cycles.
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