she used to call me “pastel.” a word sneered through thick black lipstick like a slur, though she said it was her pet name for me. at the end of it, she told me I was “toxic,” and I hear it each day, even though she sent it in a text. I’ve changed my tumblr…
back then, we moved like dappled sunlight in a breeze; shadow reaching for shadow closing the spaces between choking light to love despite the death of life beneath.
my soul has been the color of screams grey and sharp like a glinting knife or a sniper scope on fire like a cross above bodies or a bus headed for a speech or two proud towers staring down their fate riddled like the walls of churches of schools of theatres of a club and…
is there anything we can there are no words for i’ve been sitting here trying to write this for half an my heart goes out to there is only silence (for now)
These waves have seen Rome’s rise and earlier even, before Darwin’s timeline or the Lord’s living breath knew our name. These waves know nothing of ownership, whether one or another claims them or draws boundaries between, as if they can write on air, on water, on earth. Above the sea, this sky has seen fish…
your love echoes like the light of a dying star; it goes on eternally, even after death.
I am a quest, Reaching out with departing hands, Lifting up, and Falling away. When God spoke me into briefness, Knitting quiet bone and shining feather, He seemed to know I would grow to be His heart’s final, glowing praise. I am a quest, Outlasting only the moment’s last memory Of whatever was just beautiful….
sunlight kisses the mountain. a scorched school bus sighs, “Finally.”
An extremely short verse that’s actually a metaphor for death and family.
A tribute to my friend, Scott, who passed away from cancer in 2013.