Somehow I’ve become her The way seasons are sacred And strawberries shouldn’t be eaten In the snow.
And she is a hollow You may only return to One day a year Under fear you’d return Tomorrow, And she’d be gone
That your breath Was warm enough To melt the northern forest If you lingered
That your body was too hot And you’d melt her And then, you’d never Feel solid Again
i. i lie in bed for hours, imagine fish- soft bodies writhing weightless, water bound but fluid, flowing water, boundless abyss enriches,...
This Phoenix is done rising as if it exists only a s(u/o)n in context Of Mother Earth, Gaia beating her hands On linen left wet too long...
When I get overwhelmed, I organize. Pull everything out and put it back better until the dull flighty hum in my body is replaced with the...
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