the dangers of parataxis

I once attended a reading that was novel/engaging. The poet read rapid-fire. All of the images were startling and my synapses fired nonstop. Later, trying to recall the poems, I felt like this raccoon trying to wash cotton candy. 

bees for lashes

I dreamt that bees surrounded me and no one would come near. I was convinced I had become their queen. I felt powerful and lonely.

It turned out, their real queen had landed on my back and they were, in fact, surrounding her.

I was merely lonely.


We used to write obituaries and submit them to the local paper. Now we post a tweet, upload a Facebook video, sepia filtered, text overlayed, guitar strumming softly in the background.

This is still love.