Shadows in the lamplight beating, all the ghosts within repeating
doubting, dreaming rare and radiant books of ancient lore…
With a grunt and stems that curled around them, the charge of the carcass, the shadow of a young prince’s wound.
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Sometimes rare characteristics — such as a nimble mind, above average intellect, a knowledge of philosophical principles, some language skills and ‘tech’ savvy—can appear psychic.
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I feel guilty. In the darkness of the night, I’m gutted with my privilege and toss and turn on my bed.
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It is all for the kiln - the gown as discreetly
and secretly brought every night in her bed
and wore her down—burnt.
She contemplated the only boy I ever actually wept
and ever prayed for: a bitter hawk-nosed Southern prayer
for [ ] was so plentiful and so ‘weekend-only.’
Love at first is not the person. Love is not an end but a process.
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Leaving the waters of the worried. The firmament to bring light, to plough the earth and perish
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