when the urge strikes — i don’t even realize what i’ve done -so fast —aftermath- no release, not any more,
“Whatever it is that you’re doing, keep doing it”
my insides laughed and screamed
"nobody can know"
what a loaded statement, which could mean absolutely nothing-unless fear feeds it,
keeping it very alive and very real-
and in turn, the same fear makes it hard for anyone to know you.
what is it to know?
sunday is for worship and mimosas
-josephine delphine henderson heard
Coming up on eight months
"All that fucking without art is really rather dreary"
encounter endlessly entertaining
yet, i am the entertainment
you beating me, beets
red rings, ring around your finger
your finger, blushing
so fragile, the veil over your veins
pressing gathered glass between cracks, widening gaps
in, in, in, in, in, in,
this one had a boys face
i could not look at him
only his shadow
from my own
"I don’t recognize you anymore"
released annually from the heart.
better luck next time.
Relating everything to the moon cycle,
his shoes had holes but his socks were pure white
his voice carried me to the park,
it distracted me from the couple who walked,so slow,in that moist light
Woman Cane, Man Arm
I stood alone couple veering left night dew,
his breath on my neck,
I turned right into the muddy night
Trudging onward, no shadow
that is what I want to remember today.