︎︎︎ Adrienne Herr

︎ October 4, 2022

Understanding god in this way is to take from god. Is how I can make work. She went to the field to be rich and important. Possession is to have and to be had by. My making of life.

Grieving the word itself. I receive a threat. I must remove the reader. Laughing and screaming at this impossible request. All writing originating from this shadow. This original possession.

So I am left to keep record. As glaciers carried weapons across nations then stopped to become water from which animals drink.

Or rather, stealing her ashes from on top the microwave. Dipping my wings in her and dispersing particles as I fly.

So I stood up in the wind. I am twenty-nine days old and lucid. I am expecting my baby to know joy, in ways that I could only imagine and then record. “It won’t stop,” I whisper. “And you are spoiled rotten.”

You stop caring. Laughter: “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.”

You feel funny. Fuck-the-baby. Love-my-mommy. Really big trees.

Adrienne Herr is an artist and cross-genre writer, currently working with sound and installation.

Also by Adrienne: Fallen, To claim