Art and Stars

Not my first time, certainly not my last. I love you old buildings!!

Paris (August 15 &16, 2025)

Stratford-Upon-Avon (September 6th, 2025)

words are like molasses in my throat, they are sweet and warm and sticky but slow moving, never pushing past where i want to be. i find it easier to speak in my poetry, i always have. the words seem clearer even if they get fucked up and jumbled around. words cover my hands in foam-- seafoam saltily sizzling resting like poprocks flying away the moment my mouth tries to catch them. my lips lock around only air. that might make no sense. maybe it might. i dont know anything at all. even if sometimes i feel like i do. how do i begin to explain my seafoam and molasses? words are coastal. they ebb and they flow into my mind, out of my mouth, into my mouth, out of my mind. maybe i should just start speaking in tongues meshing around, heavy with molasses seafoam flying from my lips. maybe i should just start cooking again. i should make my grandmother's molasses cookies sprinkled with seafoam. airy, yet rich in flavor. heavy, yet delicate in taste. decadent with a fuzzy memory aftertaste.

Quebec City, Quebec, Canada (28.12.23)