Leave your favorite mug out in the sun for several hours. Bring the mug back inside and sit on your favorite chair as you drink the light that has collected inside the mug. Feel your stomach glowing, and tell yourself—I … Continue reading
The day she traded her worn cross for a feather the air kissed the light.
In the softest pit of my belly, the masticating angel, the glowing renegade with milkbone teeth, eats me alive, and spits me back out into the world, half-light, half-silence, the happy miscarriage of identity winnowing the essential me from I.
The sun, like a brandied dream, slips away beneath the world’s ending, or beginning, same difference, by the sea’s ancient gauge and meter.
Girl, I will write you for a long, seething bask, Light seeks its own level.
Remember me to the ease of light, its pause and passage, we are not long for this earth, which swallows us, and our lovetagged bones, as a matter of natural course and radical recomposition, all the gifts, and hopes unwound … Continue reading
There are no promissory notes in life, there are fugitive scraps upon which we can opt to scribble our heart’s mind, and most tender sublime, tatters registered to light’s lilting slant, granting us grace from unexpected angles.
Slotted between worlds, a living wake, whitefulness encroaching like a milkspreading cape of ocean, the requisite baffle and glare, It must be the angels riding in mounted on Mercy, you think, and you wait for them to turn the corner, … Continue reading
Sometimes, even the light, in its radiant parry and thrust, needs to be laid down, in order to receive, openly, the starried lull of brokenness.
We, the intermediaries, the gilded abeyance, between holy fire and dreamless wake, we, each and every one, corpuscles, tendered to print in God’s colossal palm.
