learn the language
of sand
while sitting in a
chair by
the radiator
storms boil
the ocean
shredding kelp as
the wind loses
its mind
Month: July 2023
diagrammatic
our spiritual nature in many pieces
the hard counting of ice crystals our last meal was it eaten in haste
was it the altered transcendence of calm as skinebirds
wrestled in nightbane how
they worried for the souls of children locked in
closets how their tiny songs reverberated and muddled and snapped
at betraying symbols of the hundredth yewbranch the
malnourished among us without definable
features whose belief in god the impartial fisher a patient woman
to glue stones on our eyes why we chase
doppelgangers why we wear
flakes of pink corrosion dance with matches in the darkness pause
for no discernible reason not in the pursuit of the
abstract lost to wrenching thoughts but simultaneously
understood that the same
can be said of the people who came before us they and they
found peace with prisms and they
and
visitation
why yellow walls
why do I know
about yellow seeing it
through
a closed door seeing
sunlight leaving its mark
like paint
yellow seeping from the walls through
the wooden door wood worn
dark by a thousand hands dark
as the shadows left
behind by an indifferent
god
who guides my hand
knock knock echo in the
hallway sound that
stumbles down
the stairs
late in day
when we lean back against the
overpass railing. collect raindrops
on our fingers instead of naming children
who will never be born. engage in
arguments with green lightning storm.
your obsession with electricity, afraid to be
touched, but the atmospheric molecules
that connect us. under our feet a convoy of
diesels blows by in a rush of petroleum
wind. we load our pockets with
static flames. fall weightless into
forty years from now. a remembrance
of thunder’s haunted soliloquy.