round pies

…the poem is a temple—or a green field—a place to enter, and in which to feel... I learned that the poem was made not just to exist, but to speak—to be company. It was everything that was needed, when everything was needed.

“But why am I too much for myself and too little with you why, whenever you come near me, I feel as if a part of me has disappeared—”

If you sit super still during the summer solstice you’ll see a thousand flocks take flight into the dusty sky It will sound like a humming caught in the throat It will feel like a needle strumming It will vibrate everything & just when you think you do not deserve such beauty —you’ll grow wings

I want to love and be loved. I want to find a way where I don’t hurt myself. I want to live a life where I say things are good more than things are bad. I want to keep failing and discovering new and better directions. I want to enjoy the tides of feeling in me as the rhythms of life. I want to be the kind of person who can walk inside the vast darkness and find the one fragment of sunlight I can linger in for a long time. Some day, I will.

Friday morning: thank god it’s flex on my haters and ride day

“I want to say: I only love you, And I cling to you Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound.”