an epistolary coercion of things that swing to sail
“We are the music makers & we are the dreamers of dreams”& so here we are in the midst of the illusion, caught in the cataclysm of universe wrought in supertransformidable collision of particle & mind (each made real by the other).
Your Mostly Face a human must exercise judgment or die
In light being let joy then be thy ferment & not fear
I love and fear you deliriously Is required of to be create-ive in abundant reserve. Is frightening.
The route became a kind of uncertain thing I understand very well the fingers I see pointing lately/ the voices sternly reminding ‘marching is not enough.’
Spraytan Makeover apple pie on the table and Jimmy Stewart having a dream and you were there and you were there but nobody from these seven countries
Dreamwork I thought about the bathtub a lot.
who needed help we looked at the grass and the trees together and her breathing got slower and she began to talk about the mountains and the police and the animals
“Melt the money, but until then feed the hungry” If we perceive the collective will to be suppressed by those in power, it need not strike fear in our hearts
Field Notes on a Women’s March in Texas when we are alone again & it is cold & dark & worrysome & difficult to remember, well, there was a walking that we walk still we walked & walked & walked among the walking
Perhaps demons is not the problem an ounce or two of empathy toward the indignities & obstacles toward process with a mind to benefit others by one’s experience
Six Dumb Words the ‘struggle’ & how the sound of that word is like two men in the dark gripping one another by whatever it seems will kill
The Yellow in My Beak is Weak this is not my home I have no home & all the colors are wrong
Horizon-al Noon! since you asked me to be a poet, & since your writing on the horizon asks a poet to practice being a poet, & to share