I once read that months yawn into existence—like a sharp inhale of untamed time that burns out of you as the days amble into weeks. That’s what it feels like to make it to June: the contagion of one yawn after the other, when half the year gets lost behind and the remaining half unfurls.

This collection is about girlhood, womanhood; a future that is female as much as it is fleeting and fickle. A reminder that it is only June, and the worst is not over.

• i know how this ends: today, the headline said the end is here
• hello girl: clean girl, material girl, that girl

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It’s been a while. Below are my missed synaptic connections, thoughts I’ve turned over and over in newly-formed neurons but couldn’t quite electrify into fully-functioning thoughts.

• i’ll make a myth out of you: make me into something better; or pretend i’m someone better
• a table set for you and who: an invitation into harry’s house
• here’s the succession plot: can we stop renewing this for another season

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persephone and hades send their best from the underworld

I made a spring foccaccia recently—sliced up bell peppers as sun rays, halved cherry tomatoes into flower petals, planted artichokes in towering stalks—a story of the season told through fresh produce and processed grain. I summoned spring in a four-hundred and fifty degree gas oven and brought it with me as an offering.

The March solstice has passed over us, and the Eleusinian Mysteries made elusive promises that Demeter and Persephone would make their return to the overworld. That spring, in all of its verdant glory, would soon emerge from the winter frost. The trees in San Francisco glow a little greener in the early morning, and the warm sun has peaked out from the fog enough days to solicit endless weekends of picnicking in the dewy grass. If winter is a Faustian bargain, then spring is a contract we made with a gentler god. Spring is a promise of renewal; hope blossoms to fill the empty spaces our bodies left behind in the snow. When spring arrives, we find reason to find our faith again.

This is a momentary pause from irregularly scheduled programming. I share some of what I’ve been reading, ramble about what I want to write, and list other possible endeavors.

collections: a semi-seasonal reset

It’s a weird week, so this is some writing about writing.

• semi-fictitious: so you want to write about the real thing
• english class canons: let the people read what they want
• disorganized thoughts: from the incomplete drafts

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