Silence was a long shout. She took his heart away, And he drank to quell the venom she spat, And she disengaged Because no pain was worth that. I am constant as a falling star, or My teardrops are– Patters of memory make patterns to enrapture me And I see you for the first time You […]
Taken from the fantastic staircase that leads to the mountaintop village of Longji, China, this photo depicts a lone terrace farmer tending to his rice. I stopped to snap the picture, and my traveling companions continued onward without me. Alone, I honored his toils by capturing the image, and alone, he tended the plants.
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I’m so thankful for dryer sheets, For midnight sleets that keep me Inside when I’d rather be under the stars Puffing a Marlboro. I make late night calls to Mom, When she or I finally become so tired We begin slurring our slurs, And, listening, my father says, “It sure ain’t no game for Simple
Butterflies dive bomb my windshield in fall Like they know the end is coming And don’t want to die, Wings frozen in mid-beat. Instead, they want the heat And final crash Into an invisible barrier That just hinted sunflare. I agree with butterflies. Life is a hurricane whirlwind Grinding my mind into mincemeat And I
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He is a driving music manWhose beats match somethingIn the rhythm of my soul-singing.Resistance is futile,So I grab the bags and turn the key.This road trip has not begunSo much as continued along a vein of possibility.My thoughts are liberated, yet Spirit strains against Self-imposed discipline, And I wake in the morning
