29 March 2011

Make me a record

Our chuppah, hand-sewn by me and my tasslemaster, gently waiting to be raised on Sunday.

24 March 2011


Come home, love,/I want to thumb your pages/one at a time. -"Night Reading" by Sally Ashton

21 March 2011

The slow reveal

Can we reconvene when I am married? I commit to him, I commit to you. I will visit, between now and then, because I need to. The usual coffee and you routine is my sunshine and diamond stamen.

16 March 2011


The more it changes, and it how it does change, this stays the same.

15 March 2011

"Beware the ides of March."

Jezebel graveyard, Jezebel festival
? Depends. Did Edward borrow your rose-colored lenses?

Sugar moon, sap moon: beware Mars today. Do not be irritating.


11 March 2011


I think of you, Japan. So small and paltry and mean a thing, thinking, and really of no help at all. Why this hiss, this roar, this rumble from the belly of the earth? What for? When the wind blows hard, the order we've built crumbles to the floor. Look how much we have made! None of this existed. We live in two worlds: that which is, that which we create.

10 March 2011

Fly with me

We are going to scheme again, together, the tap tap tap every morning, and the luxurious sip from grandmother china and saucers, those, I've never had those before. There has been a space invasion, and a pile of lace waiting to be sewn, I wake early and I think: for there to be change, there must be a change.

07 March 2011

Little fish, big fish.

It showered yesterday; rain, love, lingerie, swan cream puffs, aunties, cousins, childhood dreamtime, mothers, daughters.

The newest piece in my collection is cast from my grandmother's brooch. As I've told you before, and I'll tell you again, I am an only daughter's only daughter.

02 March 2011

Night of Joy

Rene Gruau

In the mailbox, little pale pink postcards say, "Yes!". The pile grows, warmth ensues.