The spectacular fashion of the cloud-cover, & at times the profound lack of it, the way the horizon never lacks the sky. Dusk scrawling itself across the flat horizon for long, ecstatic stretches sets the table for encountering the enigma of a moment. A chair left empty for a visitor made of time, place, & light.
I came across a door left open, at just the right angle for an invitation to be laid bare. Except this worked in reverse. I was the one left open. The door was my body. The light left on is inside me.
This chapbook publication is brought to you by the City of Dallas Office of Cultural Affairs through a Cultural Vitality Project grant.