Moving liquid soap from one container to another. The sound of its movement—a sucking, gloopy burbling. It flows so slowly and I get sucked into it momentarily.

Sitting inside the pizzeria downtown, across from a friend. I’m emotional, almost crying as I speak of my mother. I look over my friend’s shoulder. There is so much light, so much air above me. Steadied.

I wonder, as I listen to the undulating clear liquid fall, about everyone who is super-attuned to every sound in their atmosphere.

A strange little fleck of dried blood appears near the corner of my mouth. I don’t know how it got there. I keep accidentally brushing it off my face, and realize it’s a scab I keep opening.

In truth, I was thinking more about sound editors than anything as the soap pfffts and pshhhhs. Thinking of how they must be hearing everything I might miss, whether because I’m deep in my head not listening to the outer world, or because I am slowly losing my hearing.

Where are the crows?

I sit on the steps outside and take in the sun and especially the wind. I can’t yet write openly about my new relationship to the wind. I will only say that I don’t remember them kicking up this frequently every day before now.

On June 12th, it was six months since my mother fell. On Dec. 12th, 2025, I was supposed to read three self-chosen Kevin Killian poems at Poetic Research Bureau. That afternoon I oversaw my mother’s trip to the ER, and her hospitalization that evening.

On June 10th, it was two months since she’s been gone. I find myself wanting to talk to people I love who have also experienced the death of close loved ones.

I also find myself blank. A pause, between parentheses. A feeling of not having anything to say. At least, nothing of import. I dutifully write in the everyday journal and less often the project/process notebook. The transcription project sits and waits.

Until I’m “better.” (?)

Next week: Books I’ve Read Since January (How In The Hell Are We Halfway Through This Year)

Buy Excavation, Hollywood Notebook, and Bruja from Bookshop.org for a discount, plus support your local independent bookstore at the same time.