On Deserts and Floods

Dear Future Publisher,

Sometimes I run out of words.

At first, they spill out of me, tripping over each other to get out, coming in a flood, a stream, a geyser, pooling on the paper like water, like blood.

And then they drip, one after another, slow, clinging bulging like pearls to my fingertips, afraid to fall. Continue reading

Advertisements