I mourn for the way your favorite color used to be a question worthy of thought, now a bread crumb lost along the way of living. –I don’t know, blue?
Tag: writer
By the magic held in storms
on rainy days the front porch transforms by the magic held in storms to a rocky shore and I, standing there with sea wind in my hair, like a giant in the tide without a boat to ride, set sail by foot in the mystic gale
Sugar Shack
My god lives here in the darkness, in the snow, in buckets of sap, the soul of the trees, flowing by the freeze and thaw of howling night and gentle day, like me, learning to flow with ice in my lungs and hot sugar crystals glazing my wind-ravaged cheeks. On split lips, I taste something elemental. Pine needles, cold. The sweat of the mountain. The proximity to the fire and boil that […]
hungry heart
Caught on the exhale, hungry heart and empty lungs, lips tangled together you filled me with air
Morning snowfall
I awoke on an island, a curious castaway, the quiet white sea spread before me.
These walls
These walls are high but poorly built. The right brick crumbling sends it tumbling.
April 4, 2015
Alternately titled: journal of a girl who has yet to find her way I don’t want to have already experienced the last good day. I can feel the sadness seeping into these words I’m scribbling on this page, so, in the following pages because I have nowhere to be but with you we will sit down […]
The epiphany
I curled my leaves and starved myself to the root to deny the pain of blooming, to pollute. and what I found was that the sun didn’t shine much light and the flowers didn’t look as bright and the earth didn’t taste just right and I learned that the sun needs me and the flowers […]
