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the drive to your house and your door creaks i wait for you in the pregnant clouds but no hurry late night skin morning cat far into dream places i sense us together your hand my waist rising in the not too cold when I make our tea  Photo by John-Mark Smith on Unsplash
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leaves fell off maples i jumped in the damp and grew up into a small dog we looked at the stars who took me across country me the always new girl too many men bought me too many drinks the haunting night called me into its bars and my lungs filled with water, clutching iron he took me away in a van i discovered the weight of my cranium and feared i'd go off a cliff finding the moon, lassoing it, i saw the you glow in its spotlight and pined closer i got off the love train for a while and found my breath stuck in my sternum i stayed too too long in the bathtub i found hope in sweaters we found places speaking to us and spoke back singing i took a lot of classes i fell from security the way i wrote got faster sharper i found relief in mossy woods i felt temperatures rise in my face i looked up and saw you thanks for being t/here  Relief in mossy woods. Photo by Tuce on Unsplash |
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$1, $10, $100, whatevs :) Heidi KraayProcess notes on a work in progress (me). This mostly contains raw rough content pulled out of practice notebooks. Occasional posts also invite you into the way I work, with intermittent notes on the hows and whys on the whats I make. Less often you may also find prompts and processes I've brought to workshops, as well as surveys that help me gather material for projects. Similar earlier posts from years ago can be found on: Archives
April 2024
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