I take off my shirt in the light and stand naked in darkness. It's because my elbow flipped off the switch.
I shower in mold, shaking.I don't care what you say I'm a writer. What do I know. I am wracked with ivy and dusk. Pigeons feast on my toes.
His hands, pumas, underneath my shirt. Claws retracted. This is the season of love.
Yesterday I was a pillar of bees, swelled with the confidence of stinging.
Today I ran four miles in the pouring rain for a moment faster than rivers decades beneath my feet.
I will write her a love letter.
He understood. The only way to rise is to first go down to the deep. He coughed on his back on the sidewalk, cocaine spit up on his lips.
My favorite movie in this entire world is It's All Gone Pete Tong. He punched that rabbit right in the face.
This violence was the most powerful expression of love his life has ever known. It will save him. Do not tell me things are "good." Not "bad."
I make my rhythms on the sea and ride the coattails of doves.