Language has a way of skirting around in the margins. These margins collide with concepts, where the inner worm bashes against the outer skin of self, brushing against the ridges of intertextuality. Sometimes I feel like I’m constructing a system of art, other times I feel like I’m coughing up random words. Both cut into me and break out of me. This is a place of margins.



6 Responses to About

  1. I love this. It is beautiful. Words can say so much, or nothing at all, and you never know what they can do to you until it’s already happened.

    Liked by 5 people

  2. alaina says:

    Thank you for liking my blog. 🙂
    Your description of the word and it’s unfolding feel like a description of how my thought processes develop. Thank you for getting it.


  3. Thank you for following my blog, I appreciate it 🙂
    I absolutely love your photographs by the way, and the depth of your poetry; you’re incredibly talented.

    Liked by 1 person

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