To tell the truth about myself,
A confession to my untidy spirit.
Blood dries under nails,
I'm not sure which me it belongs to.
Once, I had a man tell me,
"Forgiveness looks beautiful on you."
I unhook my ribs
And hang my lungs on a coatrack,
I do it for love,
For love I abandon my self.
A soul stretching like one uninterrupted wound,
Climbing up the length of my spine.
Forgiveness looks like an accident,
Spilled on the pavement,
Reflecting the light.
I have never learned how to decay gracefully.
An affinity for crisis,
An empathy that runs deeper than dreams
And thicker than blood,
You couldn't wash me from your memories if you tried.
All the ways one heart can bruise,
Love in itself is a sort of solitude, you said.
The timid ghost of myself
Casted here at my feet,
I am looking at myself only to be seen.
How cruel a forgiveness which
Doesn't know when to trust itself.
To tell the truth about myself,
To be the sun instead of light emitting from a dead star,
Would be an admittance that even God isn't ready to hear.

rushing wind whistles by
most sounds swept away
but i can hear rustling leaves
that must be thankful
for the strong stems that anchor them
to strong branches
just as the tree must be thankful for roots
which are thankful for the dirt
even though the blowing sand stings
as it erodes the tough bark
which the tree is thankful for btw

i hear birds chirping but none fly
it's almost like today's their sabbath
like maybe every so-many days
they take a rest
or maybe it's just too windy to fly
either way two are mourning
due to the lack of work they put in
as they were lazy and built a poor nest
i found their chick dead
on the lawn this morning
i guess we all reap what we sow
poor little thing - i blame the parents

in following the tree's example
i guess am thankful that
i live in a beautiful place
and what else should i expect
it's wyoming
it's windy
it's just that it would be so nice
to have one
even if it were just one
calm day

i'm sure the birds agree

speak a treatise
on belonging

I thought
existence

into

the being
part of

human

birth is a
pressure

to escape
stillness

and peace
and every

day after
just continues

that path
a pattern

the longing
to return

at war with

the need
to move on