i no longer have an answer when people ask me what i write.
it has become unfathomable for me.
the other night, i said it’s like putting a cake in the oven and pulling out pancakes.
and i’m standing at the edge of a moment, realizing that to investigate this would require putting my head in the oven. i’m stuck trying to decide if i’m just another poetic cliche, or if i’m about to find the rabbithole.