by the grace of god go i

feel like the rug is always being pulled out from under me
or maybe that's just the wool being pulled over my eyes
wondering what this small bit is
that keeps interpreting the world
as something else acting upon it
how do i hold this--

i am the keeper of something delicate
will tread softly on my own thoughts
that way everybody wins

Bodysong Part II

I wake in the darkness
to my heart skipping beats
and it seems nothing can cure me
but the lull of a familiar melody

under closer investigation
i see myself facing the unknown
emotions expand in my chest
of sizable weight and unknown breadth
and i wonder, how long is this going to take me?

i turn towards an old song
attending to familiar territory
with blood on the tracks
we'll run over comforting sound waves
how old is this place?
how old?

I dream of haunting houses
making visits to an apocalypse cliff
i live like this world is my center
even though it's sun that holds me together
whenever I tell myself to keep it together
i'm just pretending to hold that weight on my shoulders
makes me feel important

rings of saturn

the colossal beauty of a human face buried in another's neck
ties me to
a childhood memory, fits of laughter
of being tickled senseless

I listen for the rain
in servitude
as it barrels down
making connections between all of the raindrops
and the warmth beneath your skin

somewhere in time this moment is unfolding
but for now
just my pen pressed against paper
all of my ritual magic
simplified to small wrist movements
on the edge of symbolic empty space
made from the bodies of sacrificial trees
this is what i do to sing in reality
nothing too fancy
just heartbreakingly slow enough to notice---

falling to earth i realize my sense of solitude is brief

When I open my mouth it only means I don't know

what would i say if if i could speak honestly
if i could give you words without need underneath,
other than I love you, I hope you make it in one piece

I was cut from stone
and then was born from clay
now my blood does freely flow
I'll give it back someday

I can see the sun
there's water in my eye
round in circles run
until the day we die

round in circles go
makes time to pass us by

my breath is in the wind
my body in the soil
with thoughts illuminate the dark
say, "time to rest from toil!"

I know that sometimes I like my coffee black
my eggs runny
I saw it it in a movie once
and got stuck on the evocation
of white sky
and vague nostalgia
maybe inconsolable family knottedness
is born of the same motive
of choosing bitterness
as a means to softening

sometimes I think we are the greatest
I know we are
always a pleasure to be us
no matter what happens
whatever it is that experiences us
is great

to look across the table at the cafe
into the brightness of your face
feeling supported by songs I know well
and your vibrant presence

lost loss

I am looking forward into my life
when this happens I am dreaming
no future exists
but I am quick to compensate

marriage from one to another
I expect
with a loss of self
that one can hope to merit

who am I but the thinness
between lonely
and holy

I alone
when uttered wordlessly
I hear in ache
when felt
the greatest joy cannot describe