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myself. when we are herelike thisall skin and heart and sexI feel more like myselfthan I ever do otherwiselike belonging has settled down in the seat beside melike purpose and the person I want and try to behave finally arrivedand will not be tempted to leaveshe asks for a home hereshe wants to belong to…
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I am no Godbut when you feel lostwhen you know notwhat to believeI will gladly beyour place of worship the blood& the bones
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the game. it’s amusing to mehow you know I’ll do itand so do Ibut we play this gamewhere I say nothen your voice fills with stern demandand you hands turn into weaponsI wish it wasn’t sothat maybe sometimes the give in mewould arrivewithout such force or ultimatumbut my Godit is so much more deliciouswhen you…
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I know he is with us now and now two has become three. But when it was just you and I, we were still a family to me. We were unmade beds And toys always in the tub We were rainy puddles on the slanted porch A yard full of weeds I never had time…
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I know I push. Like a battering ram hungry for space, for distance and for the burden of being something to yet another someone else to be lifted. But I don’t want it. Not really. What I really want is a little bit of easy silence. For a body to bear the weight, without being…
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I do want to be handled with careat timesbut please Godnever like a flowersmokeor tenuous glassthings that easily breakinstead I beseech youto see my true shapeto know the dangerin the way I was madeand handle me insteadas if I were a blade the blood& the bones
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Let man be brought the edges. For you cannot know what you were made to do without them. I pray every man finds the edges of his will, his strength, his mental capacity, his physical ability. And then I pray that he falls in. I pray for this simply in the name of his rising.…
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unruly. somedayI prayI will call a place like this homefor my bodyand so much morefor my wandering soulwhere beauty is not tied to some inconsequential thingand words and time are not wastedinstead they are spoken and spentwith depthwith weightwith purposesomewheremy hands and feet can reach intothe willing earthand where every river holds healing when I…
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divide. They say there was a time when all was connected. When there was no divide between their mountains and our valleys. When no ocean came between. I have often wondered where my slopes and hollows fit. Where my river was meant to end. And how my curves were carved away from their genesis. But…
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duality. there is bad in mea thing that festers and drumswaiting for it’s turn to take overwhen the better parts of myselffail to succeed with grace and composurehis methods of resolution are often messybut they are thorough and brusquesharp and piercingunlike the softness this side tries to emulatehe is my necessary evilwhen the switch is…
