garden ocean kindness
In the morning I unfold the dirt from my hand
My lover is putting me through a silent retreat
Designed for compliment recipients who are unable to accept gifts
table chair window
Maximalist etiquette requires stationary wheels
The idea alone of some train is no longer good enough for me
Often I wonder what can I do with a $20 bill
string fabric sleep
It’s a circus up there where I try feeding myself yarn
There’s no pattern to follow just one foot in front of the other
Worried I’m wearing anything at all that slightly resembles pajamas
time money water
I could sleep for one more hour but my eyes won’t shut
I keep refreshing my online banking summary, nothing changes
A water bottle is my least favorite thing to carry
tree speech listen
If a woman’s shirt is longer than her jacket, leave her
I want to write and be read anywhere
There are no words you don’t know
mouth ear hand
There are no words I would use that I normally would not
Why would I
Be proving the sticks of fashion we hold together
metal glass pavement
Dragging an elevator outside
It won’t be photogenic maybe but you will feel something
What’s it like to run way over to the far end of the opposite of clarity
paper cloud metal
I can’t trust myself in the moment of looking up a definition or the weather
From here I predict
An aftertaste of shiitake mushroom drying on the evening rack of my tongue
concrete water oil
One doesn’t have to decide
Between a block sale and a ladder made of cards
I am asking you to show me how wet your fingers are
wind cloth cloth
There’s no worse sound than a door that opens immediately once it has closed
If the scarf comes down past her waist she’ll hang up before you do
What other article of clothing are you a little too good for?
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STACEY TRAN lives in Portland, OR. www.staceytran.com