Posts
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i began writing my will and goodbyes at 13;
after every night i waited for my death bed
to hold me in an unconscious embrace and
to cradle me until i returned to our Mother,
i anticipated my rebirth to commence at 14; -
Come, Alive
In the early morning I wake with Sun,
And she smiles at me with yellow teeth,
And I think Imperfection is beautiful.
In the last moments of the day Bird flies,
And I hear them chirp to the heavens, -
Hiking Upward (Heaven has no Golden Stairs)
So, you’ve traveled mighty far;
Beneath the damp underpasses,
Guided by rivers and the North Star,
Trenched through forest masses.
I hope it is what you anticipated.
The journey is not for the weak -
Starving Stars
starving has the word "star" in it so maybe this hunger is celestial; old as the big bang; old as matter. i want to matter to you more than the air you breathe. -
The Green State (home)
The grizzly bark trees
drop their rusted leaves
and the quilt mountains—
amongst snow and ice,
beside frozen lakes—
groan with content
under the gaze of clouds
with the sun barely peeping.
The smoking chimneys -
Buried in Winter
The greatest of lovers are rumored to not dawdle.
In hope of truth my legs begin pacing
down through the forest blanketed in snow;
past thickened ice the earth shows lo and behold:
It takes more than cloth to survive the cold.
Loves
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Tell Me I Can Stay
tell me I cannot drink the air;
yet the smoke on the horizon curls like a finger,
inviting me to taste February in the wind
and know time is running out
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Le corbeau et la femme
Je suis un corbeau avec un plumage noir. J’aime les bijoux. J’aime aller au parc. Je vois une femme avec un collier. Je veux le collier.
Alors, je fondre sur elle et prendre le collier. Je suis un content corbeau!
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How do you ride a bike?
How do you ride a bike?
How do you make the wheels turn?
How do you make everything fade away?How do you let the moment
Fill you with emotion
That never leaves your heart? -
The dog at the end of my street
There's a dog that sits at the end of my street,
He snarls his teeth when we walk,
He barks with his eyes wide open,
With his eyes full of rage and love.
There's a dog that sits at the end of my street, -
Vincent
Orange, yellow, and red
Swirled like a painter mixing his colors
The brush strokes, light, heavy, loud
A pallet of only the brightest colors
Distracting him from the grip of life
