Silence…
Not growing or abating
Is it possible to handle it
Finality is in my name every time I speak it
If I look down at the hole I’ll see it’s taller than I
Can I beg them to make it shallower
Can I be closer to the sky
Can it be my last wish
Before the silence reaches me and all I ever was… an indentation on the crust...
In the evergreen where the branches bend their weight to perfectly shield the cove
I lay
My back and body perfectly molded to fit the bed of leaves below
My fingers pick at one and as it crumbles in my hand
it falls down my nape
The speckled sun on each one
My mouth blowing
Here is the quiet of my hiding space...
The body of my host is small but when they stand at an angle I become larger than life.
On this day of the dead we shadows are no longer the afterthought.
We are the brain.
We have agency.
We climb rooftop balconies.
We glide over oceans and collapse under canyons.
We swivel about but one thing constrains us.
Our humans never gave us wings....
I touch it. Grazing it back and forth with my thumb. It’s a line. Abrupt and slightly distracting. In the dark I can mistake it for a line of muscle. It’s a shadow rather than a real thing. It’s a line rather than an indentation.
If I close my eyes I can imagine a babe. A few days old. Pink with brand newness. Smaller than my stomach it was cut on. I can not hear me cry because I don’t think I d...
Iv’e only ever seen it contained.
Once while driving.
Many a times sitting.
Cooking too.
The strange thing is
It’s so present
It’s so known
Yet is it even here?
If you look at it for a while
This weightless thing
You begin to see its lack of shape
Lack of structure and support
Peoples fingers go through it
People’s lives are consumed by it
Yet every time I light a candle
It’s only the candle ...
“In the end, I did it to myself.” Is surely everyone’s fear.
This isn’t a poem but I’ll write. On the way back from a 7pm class… dim lights from the bus illuminate my showered too long ago hair. It’s tied though, in a French braid. Enough to make it look like I tried something with it that morning. Which in truth, I did. I wove my fingers tirelessly until my arms ached. I did it so silently that ...
His helmet reflects pale lights of dawn
His hands grope for his gun
Leaving him there
He wishes to have fought until his legs became too sore to run
His lungs to hot to breathe
His gun too cocked to shoot
He watches as the new day encroaches
He watches as his time in the hourglass closes
His legs dig deeper as his arms wrap tighter
He whispers soft words of comfort in his ears
He lets out a strug...
Color on the canvas drips together in a river of hues
They mingle and they swirl
Some deep and some shallow
Each molecule touches as they collapse
Together they are desired for a beautiful shade of brown
It colors the cheeks of the women in the hall
At each glance I gain new perspective
The river of color returns to me again
This time it colors the end of her shawl...
The crows are flying delightfully
The trees passing by with each lyric in my ear
It all passes smoothly
In the wicked light above I watch as it dims
It recedes from every leaf and petal
It lessens the black of my irises
The blue and the green and the grey
Everything is just as it is meant to be...
The sun rose today
It’s flaming light reaches the window tenderly
I don’t notice the light until I open my eyes
The sun rises when I rise
The apartment is standing firm as I lay in it
It’s blocks shield the sound of traffic and birds
I don’t notice the sound until I open my eyes
The sound makes noise when I hear it
As I rise the floorboards underneath me creak
My sleeping bad rustles and drags
A...
