Palimpseste

I wrote a book called Everyone Carries a Room. Some will call it poetry, others fiction. I like to think of it as an essay. I used to think it was a book about being stuck in a room that was always changing. I thought the speaker of the work represented stasis while everything around her was in constant mutation. I thought she was trying to figure out her relationship to the everchanging room. But I think, now, that it’s not that the room itself is changing. The room in fact contains fragments of many other rooms within it, porous time-spaces. These spaces open pockets that the speaker drifts into. But she is also their carrier. […]