perhaps wine was the only sea shade we needed

poem for those with mineralistic sympathies

poem for the arbitrary end of the year

It’s one thing to remain fond of what was; it’s another to harness your time to those no longer present. Not the dead – they have whatever you give, which is enough even if nothing – but the living who don’t think of you. The ones who don’t give you room even in thought. WhoContinue reading “Stop correcting me”

Two blocks wide, footing rough, the path curves up and away from you. To your right, the wall is soft, bluish, cold. The wall is flesh. The slightest pressure bruises, the surface more delicate than expected. If you push further (of course you do, just to see), it breaks and divots and weeps a mixContinue reading “Early morning”