There at my throat back, venus fly trap sprouts.
Noticed when I woke to teeth grinding, my night ritual.
But this time, a sour bug taste instead of iron grit.
A buzzing glimmer, then
My mouth zapped shut inside my mouth.
Teeth under teeth.
I pressed inside at long needles stabbing my finger, clamping down.
Stinging blood on my prints, jerking away.
Afraid of the mirror but too curious to avoid.
A shower to clear head, wash face, keep jaw closed.
Wiped fog off glass, plucked brows and brushed hair,
But to clean teeth, I had to open.
And inside, this monster plant glaring whites open for a brush too.
I snapped my clamp back shut, resigned to silent halitosis.
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Process 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: