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...