Children of Heat

some kind of thunder
at its grounding
crashbud atop
the kind of earth that
spills itself boundless
into air

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Bilious We •

 

 

I so often wish I could bring you sensations, moments, bits of the fabric of things. Today, on the edge of the forest, white throated deer ate new leaves off of saplings a few feet away, as I, black clothes stark against the bark, picked sap and brought it to my face. These moments, like the rocks, in some way unmoving, smooth, clever. I wish to bring these to you untarnished by translation, and in the same moment I know it to be impossible. But I know that very soon we will be in the same room – and that that is the closest two humans get to seeing, as one, the quality of light in an afternoon.

As your breath above mine

My mouth tastes like raw egg yolk and the soap I try to wash my hands with has been sitting in its own juices for so long that it comes apart in my hands, oozing. I feel like that soap. So saturated as to have changed my chemical state.

Recipe: 1. Write tangled poetry 2. Watch one David Lynch Movie per day 3. Be patient