the house grows smaller
with each step I take

walls pinching in
a carnival room

your chair in its corner
worn like a molar

a trick you still do
blowing smoke from your ears

refusing to acknowledge
how old we have gotten

the moles on my back
growing swamp lilies

the turn of a head
looking into a mirror

Selected byNolcha Fox
Image credit:Jez Timms

I want my art and writing to have humility, to be clear and void of deception. I want my audience to see without distraction, to feel I have not wasted their time with pomposity. I want to create bold, clean images and write simple, declarative sentences that cause people to confront their humanity.