Bits and Pieces

(Your hands, your Heart, your eyes)

What is the bigger idea? The hook? The draw? The again and again?

Blueprints keep crashing into me. Most forms of forget-me-nots, the will nots falling out of my mouth. Weakness can only be rewritten so many times. Bruises and breakaways.

Earth-I am here, as seasons change and life turns to death. Patience is my coin. The inevitability of order without…

2.19.18 Here I call to you. Silver pennies Into the well, We are not quite there. Seeds counted in dark Flesh. You still have hope. Nectar clings to the room To the spaces you left. Slowly dispersing, You do not belong here, The beasts of prey do not know what to do with what is left of you. So left you stay. Keeping the present hopelessly out of reach. For one called the keeper of dreams, My own are stolen…

11.1.19

The texture one creates in moments of

Aptitude. Consuming and being consumed. Drifting into the foreground. A gentle relief as constraints disjoint it’s frame.

Is there room for action that doesn’t interpret intention?

11.6.19

There are shadows I have named, nothing like a friend, but relative nonetheless. Features I can not erase. No matter the grip or release.

11.12.19

Days mixed up…

7.16.19

Next to no one.

7.18.19

A painted door, burned through yet still unseen. Reflective, engraved, illusion.

7.20.19

A language written where moments can’t count. Listening as intently as smoke to the wind. You couldn’t guess where we needed to go.

You feel like every space I have spent alone.

Present to what is left coating our skin.

7.22.19

If I am holding onto an idea of natural,…

6.10.19

Missing the directions pieces together with parts of wholes. A collections but not quite a sun, channels left agape, dispersing possibility.

Diversion or affection?

Echos drawing in, and apart. Which stories do we keep pushing back together?

6.12.19

A crumbling set of values making room for exceptional circumstance.

Asking questions that presume to engage you, but set you up to follow.

‘…

4.19.19

Letters from a mother:

A movement not unlike fear has set this course in motion. She told me in something other that words that I would become the same as her. Lost to a bigger cause. That I would be loved but never, not likely, understood. This is the nature of these types of equations. No matter how many times you draw it out you will always end up on the otherside. In debt. In excess.…

2.5.19

What is born of conflict?

The engendering of cultivated action?

Of faithful sacrifice?

How do we amputate the unguarded memories of lifetime we are still living?

Can she hear me, bodiless, reaching for her hand in the sky?

A streak of colour flashing between the beginning and the end.

Nesting in twilight.

Which path do we follow?

Reaching out or digging in?

3.1.19

She knows this is not a…

Nikt

No one

No body

None

No one else.

11.5.2018

There are a lot of firsts this weekend. Fear being at the forefront. Feeling no less another tie but being viewed with skepticism. Do they mirror my discomfort and return it to me? Am I variable out of context? Reacting or interacting?

No box is seem-less, we are all compartmentalized and funneled into standards and exceptions. I wonder if It will…

‘The beginning is only a mirror held up to the end’ -Habitation, c. Valente

11.10.18

Another run through questions without asking. I bet you thought this would play out differently. But here again, and we don’t know why.

Keep your hand to yourself. A half forgotten resource, still begging to become a now.

Often I feel like I am swelling, building up, and up, like something that will not burst…

I wonder if you ever saw me here.

I wonder if you remember the magnitude.

What does it mean to be divided in love?

What does it mean to know what you must?

Quiet in the dark. But lonely in the light.

Breath of fire.

I’ve lost my wind from you before.

I have kindled dry for you as well.

When will you tell me to go.

Again.

3.24.2017

6.26.18

Stitches became frayed.

Questioning their purpose.

Irrelevant history, out of time.

And ostrich and a peacock, what do they have in common? What do you have to show off? Your lack of conformity? Your refusal to form easy reactions to external stimuli?

Change one variable and the entire shape transforms.

7.1.18

One frame to the next.

How do I keep track of my faith? How do I prepare for…

8.14.18

Uneven roads, an uneasy turn.

Dragging your feet.

Breathing without air.

Well past their function….

For half my life I mistook obsession as love. The other half, I have yet to live. I have consumed lives like glasses of water, never bottled, never filtered. I did not believe myself worth anyone’s work, anyone’s hope. Now I believe myself incapable of reciprocating either. The…

7.29.18

I am holding a place for myself.

Choosing the framework that will support me best.

Reading between the lines.

What are the rules for a game you only play with yourself?

Stretching out, a curious figure wishing for sense. Sometimes you can’t look back.

Desire wounds the ego. Replaces the cause with reason, makes hope an action.

7.29.18

I’ve put off looking for you. Like holding your…

10.06.16

Fold over.

What have I learned.

Measuring your steps,

Measuring your own.

So far from here,

A tremor of reality

Springs a leak.

Sinking.

I’m still not asking the right questions.

  Is there a solid form beneath all of, this?

A root that withers?

A root that cures?

  When everything is possible,

Do you speed up or slow down?

A curious exchange.

Tracing invisible lines.

Missing…

Twelve circles holding stories they wish to be true .

Doors and bodies bound.

There is nothing left behind that will help us now.

We are each other’s side to side, shifting on weightless feet. Our tracks are muddled. My intention and your belief drawing conclusions that won’t settle and won’t dissolve .

5.30.2018

She is no longer here.

Adrift, not even an echo.

The shore is a margin, something…

How do you begin a story you have not told. Do we begin with a name? A date? A place? Are you writing this or am I? Should I know you or myself? When this is over, Do you live or do I?

Let’s begin with something I will call a memory, you can believe it as true or a made up bit of poor fiction.

When things are really going to hurt, no one warns you first. You don’t get a slow meditation to fortify…