Hari Bhajan Khalsa
bio

I Would Tell You

how I woke in a jagged ball, the image spliced so you don't see my
face, any part of my body, just the oars dipping into the sea in a
steady back and up, out of the frame; how there's an island with
palms in the distance, sun, and the raft moves to the right quickly
and in its wake the churning, pale eddies of blood. It's the million
tiles, cut and placed just so, that are hard to talk about, how they
are mortared together until I'm sitting in the room with the medium
on Wednesday and the next day the acupuncture needle searing
my heart meridian and the book I was reading that proclaims
everyone has something vital to say. When the camera zooms in,
all you will see is a woman on her bed, her dog at the foot, light
from the street slicing through.