Bless you procreating small business men for your devotion
to the sinewy strings. Don't you think I could reach through
and pull your whole thing apart? The project, by which I mean
my project, is an I push in and pull situation, the strings
are a push against me. Either way, the results are the same: poems
about fruit trees and cubist paintings of your mother. Online
I edit my jawbone to make it more feminine, slimmer and
my scraping around for food is nowadays so debased. The
sky is a long sky without many stars in the crepuscular hour.
I don't know why but this is the year to be rained out, to be
flooded, to be completely under. What I mean is the river’s
vertical so if grabbing on is possible prepare your tools for
grabbing on. Mine's made from red buckets, an intricate
pulley system, carpeting, and a cut hole to watch through.
Want's constantly inventing the untruth of something changing
for me and now it's pouring.

Theadora Walsh is a writer based in Oakland, California. Her digital poetry has been shown at The Glucksman, the Granoff Center, and Pratt University and published by Oral.Pub, Inpatient Press, and Unbag. Her essays and art criticism can be found in Art in AmericaArtforumVariable WestHyperallergicArt PapersBOMB MagazineThe Los Angeles Review of BooksGulf Coast Magazine and elsewhere. Currently, in collaboration with Gabriel Garza, she runs a curatorial project called In Concert.