Tag Archives: gospel

The Gospel According to Skin

Posted on November 27, 2018 by

Today I woke to the pulsing ribbed memory of that night you wore nothing except a knotted bodice of white flags, and my mouth, prey to your body’s religion, submitted gospel as a savage flagrant reform to amen. Advertisements

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The Gospel According to Ice Cream

Posted on June 25, 2018 by

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 →

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Girl and the Moon

Posted on June 21, 2018 by

There is the snake and there is the amen and perhaps there’s not really much difference between the two. Like you, and the moon, and how my longing bleeds a fugitive overlap, i.e, where exactly does the queenly orb of … Continue reading →

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Glisten

Posted on May 22, 2018 by

It is hard to believe, but after years and years of clawing with bitten nails, and digging with torn palms, in the heart of a stone she found the babybluest wisps of cloud, soft nimbus music, to which she tendered … Continue reading →

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Holy

Posted on May 8, 2018 by

Unbridled, the holy seethe, touching upon lips, to reinvent the kiss as barest gospel.

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Currency

Posted on April 23, 2018 by

Language, a living currency and greening force, gospel and amorphic in its leanings toward the freest and most daring aspects of your imagination, well beyond margins, syntax, and staid forms.

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In Praise of Dark and Light

Posted on November 5, 2017 by

Everyone’s dark is coming up and it isn’t going to be pretty, as well it shouldn’t be. Beauty, as a rugged force, as thorny swaths of dream-thistles, blooms through night-fasting, and respiring enclosures of dark. Beauty marks the hidden faith … Continue reading →

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Star

Posted on November 4, 2017 by

By solitude’s star, on any given night, a twinning may occur to praise phenomena, our bodies, alight, infused with never-ending gospel.

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Charlie Parker

Posted on August 25, 2017 by

Yardbird’s singed solo, wings crisped to perfect measure– fly now, pray later.

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Touch

Posted on July 20, 2017 by

It is the quiet history of touch, tendered through years of symmetry and fable, a radiant pulsing in the spaces between fingers, holy derived, charging us to mercy and enclosure.

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