When I am getting to the end of a large bag of popcorn sometimes I pour the fractioned kernels into a bowl and eat them with a spoon.
The first days three were a time of mourning. It was three identical birds, perched on three identical mailboxes on a Sunday morning.
It is hard to be alone when it feels like individualism is an antagonist.
If I was intuition, where I would be hiding.
A Time of Great Loss.
I have taken up reading Tarot Cards.
When the tower falls, in its wake smolders an opportunity to build again.
Mantra for a maiden voyage.
I’m not scared of Bloomer. Though it is haunted and I still know everyone who works at the gas station. The fear is of settling, getting stuck, being stagnant, staying still.
A sticky, sickly web whose life depends on the flies trapped to it. We all have to eat.
I am having a funeral for me.
You are invited to the horror of the tenants whose apartments border mine.
I have taken up singing.
I have realized that the selves that live in different circles look like distant relatives.
I suppose I will have to do something about that.
We have some space between
the realization and
We have a lot more time for looking.
L Gengler is an interdisciplinary artist and writer who has found herself in Chicago by way of New York by way of Minneapolis from Bloomer, Wisconsin. She is a Patti Smith enthusiast and avid collager.
Illustration by Raven Mo