Kissoon's Loop

I cannot be with you. To be with you, truly with you, I must be you; then I will not need you. And I will not be with you.

It's the 9 o'clock hour of the morning. "I Thought I Was an Alien" by Soko is playing, and I'm standing in the beams o...

I see death in your face.

There is no prince. None of flesh, blood, or bone. He lives in the home between my ears-- unreachable I need a fantasy lover. Those ones ...

What to do about the desire for skin-on-skin contact, a need for the fresh gloss of an oxytocin dose? When a certain kind of love-- absent t...

I keep my memories in strands of hair, and when I need to forget I go to the shears; when I want to start over, I force baldness. Su...

Beneath the cracking concrete flats, The Earth is (still) there. In the low hum of winter: Grass, upspringing (still) from ruptured capil...