Articles by Galen Beebe:
I'm a hoarder of memories - the stuff in the closet - there are no mirrors - how much I enjoyed each kiss, how much shame I felt afterwards - being seen is like death - this is what I write in my journal, this is what I'm scared of - you're reading into it - you may have a pseudonym; your character may not be human - what I've authored disappears
the brink of labor - it will be okay once I’m in the next warm place - the alcohol in my breast milk - what secrets was my body harboring - the self whose ears are still unpierced - the child between us, a pretense for holding each other - I rarely find the root - I try to logic the baby into being - he slid out of our hands like a spoonful of Jello
a telescope - let alone a baby - there may be - « How mud valleys » - where when there are none of us left we rain down bodies - to write then not « I » but « teeth » - from lack of courage to giggle - « Seaweed body forms seaglass people » - speech waltzes - & cry wither, unclaimed - one - two - [D]o(e)(s) + [B]uck(s) - not - ? - !