Creative is my profession

Poems teased from loveseat of my sabbatical (part 1?)

Two weeks into Fucking Off (re: sabbatical) and I can feel creativity and magic steep back into my bones like a bag of earl gray in boiling water (to be clear: my insides do feel nuclear and they’ve spent some afternoons screaming much at the same pitch as a teapot). Enjoy some poems conceived in the golden patch of sunlight that hits my loveseat every …