Ginny

Flash painting done the night my grandmother died

An unperformable play. We open on an urban Caribbean plaza, the main square in a capital city. It is late morning. There are tourists toddling around with fanny packs and sunglasses taking up each other's space, the sweat just beginning to seep out of them. A school group wearing the same t-shirt trudges woundedly through the burgeoning crowd on their way to a hostel with their luggage, the sun intruding rudely on their bedtime. It looks like they're returning home from war,

in the living room, on the embroidered couch the light was dim, the only sign of death was in the air the stale fetor of yellow tail my...

el chiste es tan viejo la canción ha sido cantada otra vez las palabras dichas además de mi corazón latiendo como ojo parpadeando como aliento inspirado como un disco roto y ¿qué será la historia? no tendría principio ni fin y nada en medio sin objeto mi mente es tan vacia como un libro abierto las palabras leídas sueños repetidos parecería que no tenga nada para decir las cosas envueltas en hojas de plátanos en un contén de Tupperware en datos científicas en los pañales de

i'm sitting at marthes's piano, my fingers gliding across the new keys. new pianos are like new shoes--you have to break them in and get...

i used to sit on a bench, waiting for you watching the blue cranes picking up their feet watching the grass grow from the foreign soil that was my home i used to listen to the footsteps of the people i used to listen to the footsteps of the sun walking slowly across the sky i miss walking with you there i used to feel my stomach clench like a fist when i saw you walking towards me growing like moss giving me my bearings together our arms entwined we used to walk past the quee

You called me Uvas I still have bug-eyes it was endearing it was myopia We’d stick branches wrapped in spiderwebs into trees’ knots...

You opened your mouth and out came the sound of glass shattering I stood up and walked slowly, deliberately, away from you, glass popping and crackling under bare feet I had wandered for miles on oven-hot asphalt and you had my shoes and you were walking backwards My legs followed your legs in intimate tangoes your right leg back my left leg forward we danced for years in this way Until you opened your mouth and out came the sound of glass shattering And at that moment I s