We tell ourselves tales, quivering emulsions of things we wish we said, or dreamt for, or dream of— before suspended hours dissolve into day— where we abide these best and worst versions, blended iterations of fiction and nonfiction. Precision proves a poor editor, falling under memory’s sway, crediting a redacted narrative. Interpretation is your best… Continue reading We Tell Ourselves Tales
Tag: self
Shapeshift
I am a shape. I punctuate my day, depending: declaration, question, exclamation, pause, question, connection. I am round in spots, shifting angles elsewhere, freeform otherwise. I am stretched and resewn. My spirals are symmetric. I am edges, and landings, and in between. I am four walls, or four legs, filled with light, or with blood… Continue reading Shapeshift
I hang my hope on the highest branches, out of reach, where it dangles and sways in the breeze, and offers periodic respite to a passing bird needing perch. Would it do me more good at ground-level, in-hand, manipulated, turned every which way? And more easily bruised, dropped, shaken to assess hollowness or solidity. Best… Continue reading
caroline ridgway 