[excerpt 1]

Iris descends to the earth with a weight of a stone. She approaches the blue, ominous city, vibrant and star dusted at the pass of ailing light.

“Extend your proportions and allow yourself to meld!”

Iris passes the interstellar cloud that retires for the day above the warehouses. She spots the curve beyond Terminal, an azure young mass between two surfaces. She first turns to liquid in her descent, horizonless, through the formations of gas and other materials that clump together she forms a skin before attracting other matter, enough particles in fact to form a new universe; however, for now her body is made of plasma, carbon, calcium, water, hair and bone. The remaining materials do not play a part in her formation and are believed to form planets and other planetary systems.

“Sorry I disrupted you,” Iris’s blinking eye is attempting to find a relevant form to hide in but everything around conspires concrete, glass, grass, shore and stone. She wishes to revive her breath in blue and green tones. Her thoughts are dark oscillations, vibrant like the glass halls that melt back into the gradient of the sea. There is a world of becoming and of passing. All that Iris needs is a bridge. The bridge is the subliminal state of suspension between two grounded realities. It would allow her to exit Terminal, for if she were to stay, she would encounter the sub polar force that reshapes all matter back to one content rich in milieu, she would become of many parts, a giant, heavy amalgamation that avoids the sky and puts everyone back into the earth.

The echo of the Iris’s decent is lost in a grazing push of moving cars is attached to my environment.

Terminal, 2017
150 page novel
Set for completion and publication
Samples coming soon