Goblin hymn 

Goblin God

Puzzle-Grass God

God of babies born with Jaundice and kept their first days in a box with blue light.

God of nauseous newborns still reeling from previous incarnations, who lift their heads too early and make the nurse cross herself and slam the door behind her.

Spleen God

Picking at your scalp God

God of mean eyed children who hold garbage tightly in grubby fists, who cry when adults finally pry their hands open over trash cans, who whisper goodbye to tarnished candy wrappers.

God of sour faced little girls who scream instead of wave goodbye -who don’t know the words to ask them not to go, and are called creature. 

Pinching God

God of things that stare out of spite,

My own god,

send me that dream again.

That dream of a windmill in the mountains

with the ship in the waterway,

cold in summer, someone’s hand on my shoulder.

 Send me that dream where my bile was balanced and

despite my nature,

It was sweet.


Waiting for Wormwood 

At this point in this life I no longer care to achieve anything- I smother ambition with the weight of almost 8 billion lives- 

I’m in a place where I don’t really have to try and survive -the call of the parasite- why would I create something ? When it seems eating this host to hollowness is programmed into my hands and my mouth ?

But it was prophesied that one day a medicinal star will come and 

cleanse  me 

from the face of everything 

And the body I’ve been sucking dry will be finally healthy and

Flowers will bloom in my absence 


Lives in Minnesota where she explores the woods, the rivers, and dream incubation.

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