Tag Archives: I Who Am

sentence fragments at three meters a second white cloud-shaped comic bubbles above my head words you could read out loud © 2010 andrew kooman

thoughts on a dime into a man who, if he says he grows radishes will grows radishes the small dial on your second-hand watch hardly pinched awkwardly as it sounds between my helpless thumb and middle finger one year older … Continue reading →

hand against earth knuckle to rock pebbles, abrasions on the surface of skin dust and grit caked behind ear under finger nails teeth hiding beneath lips thinned and cracked by time by wind the things we mean to say like … Continue reading →

for God knows what and three other things wonder just how to remove the rebar four feet in length thrust from back to chest narrowly missing lungs heart when careless I plunged from the rickety scaffold of dreams blue skies … Continue reading →

i. the urge to pull away the hand I hold in front of my face block the sun open my squinting eyes to be blinded by glory ii. the beast in the sea whose furious tentacles cull and churn the … Continue reading →