Monthly Archives: December 2017

Awake

I awoke early and took my sweet time getting ready to exist in the way and who I wanted to become. Advertisements

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Husk

The quiet net of one’s fingers, mute and aggrieved, yet lapping volumes of light, a measureless brood husking the dark to derive a glean, its rivet bound to the commonest plight.

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Ravels

At the wound’s core, dark luscious ravels of text, courting, inviolate measures, the fathomless brood of Beauty’s End.

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Ink

Devotion, the day you ink small miracles in a palm not your own.

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Breadth

Clouds, how we graze upon the incalculable breadth of God, storm watch notwithstanding.

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Furls

Feted, by an angel’s glassy hands, slow-burning river of sound, pooling white fire in rounded furls.

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Skein

Intimacy, the skeining of desire bound by recourse.

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Clemency

At love’s wake, Clemency, claiming the casualty of mask, bleeds gently the half-moon lids of pink and purpose, how we chance to fade into strangers at the risk of memory.

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Compass

Abiding the testimonial of scattered crumbs and clefted petals, I will follow you the snaky length of impossible and hidden places; I will follow you, claiming the hem of your shadow as my guide.

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Timewarp

I tell myself stories in the dark, Anya. It helps. Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it makes things worse. Or keeps everything the same. Which is a different kind of worse. It is scary once you realize that the past … Continue reading

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