Category: writing

  • blind eyes close

    Image of a writing journal and a pencil.
    Photo by Dariusz Sankowski on Unsplash
    gazing hand & shadow
    this bone, this muscle
    untouchable & tiring
    skinstained with night
    painted to stars myrkr
    heavy, they anchor
    a heart sent to slumber
    under wood & gloaming
    a kiss to blind eyes close

  • sleepless

    sleepless hands crab & 
    clutch at taut muscles
    frozen long nights
    eyes seeking skies for
    the host on the ride

  • smudging space

    sage bundles in a pot for smudging
    Photo by Ginny Rose Stewart on Unsplash
    i smudge space most days
    inviting spirits to my smoke at
    campfires within indoor plains
    for no reason at all
    but to give them space to
    rest their weary before
    they carry on & then on

  • A mercuric lake

    Campfire
    Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash

    I have many thoughts trapped inside my head. I cannot free them because they are thoughts without words to go with them, or the words that might go with them are inadequate to express those thoughts. Trying to express those thoughts feels too much like, as Alan Watts would have put it, trying to bite my own teeth.

    If I managed to construct those thoughts into something that could be understood, if I could find the words and unstop this mute mouth — would anyone read them anyway? I mean, really read. I am fairly certain that they cannot be words that can be heard, so I do not dare speak.

    I have for a very long time tried to personally touch these thoughts, hoping to better understand people who struggled in much the same way as I do now to express inexpressible thoughts. Now that I am on that path, I understand their struggle. There are no words, we need a new language altogether to get at the words needed to explain explain explain. Maybe, I think these thoughts can only be expressed sideways, with a slipstream sense.

    After I slip into the wilds, do you think you could find me? Would you want to?

    The buzz of insects over a mercuric lake…

  • two-twenty

    sunlight shining through old growth woods
    Photo by Simon Wilkes on Unsplash
    my body is my drum
    humming at two-twenty
    thumps per minutes
    from my thumb, terraforming
    my world before my eyes
    turning inside to see
    where everything is
    leaves and evergreens
    with buzz wing dragonflies
    dancing pastel skies
    slumbering in dream
    under a springtime sun

    hanging words on oak
    my heart bursts wide