you are in these bones, but they are not you.
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hands like roots
I have not been a desperate thing, a clawing, needful thing, in a lifetime, this most recent timeline. I cannot call it repletion, truly, because I’ve never known the word, but I imagine this is close: a negotiation between my appetites and my love. And still the depth of it, that desperation, has sunk like Read more
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moving castle
and there is art i will never see again no matter my stare, music my ears will find themselves deaf to. the threat is too great to bear, a groaning dam. i am built for the ages, meant to carry every stone and shadow collected. every dart and blade and blessing. of course my eyes Read more
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Love/Language
My love language is a deaf mute. My love language shoulders mountains, smiling quietly, inwardly- a slowmoving idyll saturated from the soul out in private reverie. My love language is a home that sighs ageless relief under hands that have mended more than they’ve broken. My love language is pay attention. My love language is Read more
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let me sow that i may reap 