Tag Archives: dream
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. Anya I long to reach you only because I … Continue reading
There is a legend of a door hidden from hearts– How stones, unturned, scar.
I am a young boy, fated to innocence, walking through the lavender mist of Time’s softly slipped dream, every grain of sand a stitch in the marvel of kingdom’s comely veil.
Perfection, this life’s greatest untruth and maligner, see how ice cream summer-melts and runs like happy magma down the ridged wonders of a waffle cone clutched by a child like an edible prayer destined to disappear, one bite at a … Continue reading
I fall in love too easy with phantoms and projections, spectral imprints that pool twilight in their arms for a living. Where people are not, I find myself digging and searching, clawing profusely at beautiful stones until my nails are … Continue reading
Sometimes it is like surfing the gloam and reaching down to draw softly rounded syllables from curdles of gray in order to raise the heart’s homesick climes from its deepest and most hidden caves.
My heart, forever the weeded ace and wandering fool, scored to secret pines, sings of resident gloam pooled in that forest of backlit signs, which grows beyond its clipped horizons to invigorate departures, spurred by the genius of wordless roots.
Ask the divine wordless forecast, ask the motherless child staring off into the distance as she sails a paper airplane out the opened window.
I have spent so many years detailing and outlining and mapping out fractures, a pirate osteopath with a cartographer’s bent, and now, galvanizing a mutiny meant to take me out into uncharted waters, I see, beyond my terror of the … Continue reading