You are a black rosestill leaning toward the sunlightyour lack of color so sleek and distant but in your nervous eyes, a sparkguiding me to a pathway filling the sky with silver threadsthe moonlike a video of youdancinglike a recording of your voicesayingHello? Hello?I’m here Kindred Spirit.
Tag: Magic
The Heavy Beauty of Our Life
On a bike at night with no lights going the wrong way down the street I’m alive right now, at this moment that’s all that matters I get it burn from the inside out But seeing this makes me cringe and laugh no, not cringe, but squirm not laugh, but whoop I’ve…
Seeking Lilith or I Found God but Couldn’t Keep Her
Listening only for a moment to soundsother than the pull of the tide over the sandy rocksemerging from the fiery waters of the sun like Lilith Why have I been cast down from my proper place?Strolling by they may see nothing or possibly the creative force two separate beings admiring themselves in the mirror stretching…
Awake Now
I awake with words in my mouth contemplate them briefly until the light of day streams in kicking all syllables aside I rise with a pounding in my head a tightness in my chest know the pounding will not cease the tightness uncoil unless I pop a pill stop staring at the light so intently…
Away From the Demolished Paradise You Have Gone
Our baby, our furry, sneezing, coughing baby how can you not be here? every time I look at the doorway I expect to see you passing through stopping momentarily to meticulously clean a paw before jumping on the couch to use my legs as your comfiest of beds That one late night, the one that…
Women’s Rooms V2
Women’s Rooms that is a long complicated subject. red room, blue room that room was a sanctuary this room is a prison Each of us have our own room, placed within the vastness of the house. Patterns and behaviors sleepiness, fighting to keep our eyes open, as though we could fall asleep instantaneously of course …
Falling Inside
Each day I find myself further away than the previous the society we once knew ripe for upheaval we turn to dust as it crumbles around us splintered now I see more clearly between the cracks elated to find the opening before me yet lamenting the restrictions of my form the inability – no matter…
South Cloverdale
The late afternoon sun still shines with force on the long Northwest summer day, illuminating the sleepy buildings of what was once the center of a bustling neighborhood. The main street was the historical center and the buildings are old for the young city, 1930’s brick storefronts, in a state of disrepair. A Mexican grocery…
How is it that humans think they are evolved?
Slavery – the theme is reoccurring, ever present. I am told to simply ignore the signs, carry on – and I do. But I think about what it means to be a slave. Visiting Oak Alley Plantation, now reading Toni Morrison’s “Beloved”, people physically enslaved by other people in the most obvious way possible. How…
The Layers of Love 