has hovered
for days now
shrouding my vision
with arbitrary
thought.
gravity pulls
on the ribbon
of existence,
unties the bow
that makes it
pretty.
i can open
everything
that holds
me
but instead
i leave that box
sitting
on a shelf
in the corner
dust-coated
to prove
i have not
been there.
::
::
::
{august break no. 23}
::
the rainy afternoon
that calls you outside
to sit still and
listen
for echoes of rainbow
in shapes of thunder
the tiny white spider
that slides down, down,
down
an invisible thread
to hover and spin
at your side
the slip and drift
that make it possible
to blindly dive through
silence
while wishing to be
nowhere
but here.
::
::
{august break no. 16}
i’ve begun to revel
in my blisters.
they are evidence
of mortality,
documents of despair,
monuments to motion.
they are mine.
i earned them,
i asked for them,
i paid for them.
i cannot move forward
without them.
and beneath the
worn leather
that created them,
they’ve acquired
the importance
of god.
::
::
::
{august break no. 9}
in honor of your death
i have burned the mountain
for it was you
who walked beside me
etching creases on my face
to bring me courage
you who wrapped
love’s first seed
in scarlet paper,
held it up
against the sky
to bring me home
you who left me separate
but never quite alone
to teach me the faults
of observation
i watched as
embers cooled
and turned to stone
walked among them
choosing shapes
of heart and
hollow memory
until i came
to gnarled stumps
and saw you
standing
eyes sorry
for the comfort
you had made
::
::
{august break no. 2}
sparkle green
golden sideways
mute repercussion
::
what you see
matters less
than what
you
swallow
::
::
