pricked to a bleed

Brother left 19 years, sister 6, mother 5, their stories gone to ether along with bones buried and dust interred or tossed to wind.  From youngest to only to eldest thrust. My own story of youth passing, ink bubbles to bursting, ready to be pricked to a bleed again...

well hail...

In Texas, we compare hail to sports balls instead of small change. Windows, windshields, roofs, home, schools, neighborhoods, the destruction is indiscriminate here. What snow is to Eskimos, storms are to us, myriad.  Thunder, lightning, hail, tornados, rain, electrical, dust. Even snow, pollen, crickets, and those damn 7-year cicada that emerge from the soil to swarm come sudden and oft leave just as quick. Maybe that’s why I learned young to speak of the weather and to feel deeply tethered to the sky as much as the land. 

walk away run away

and the Spice is ink yet no,

the white space 

manifest, bourn 

of words and lines

the negative twixt and ‘tween

lips parched she licks

looksabout 

in one emphatic sigh

then walks away

Thump thump thump thump

Can we cry now?

Can we breathe?

Can we finally admit to the bone~weary of exhaustion?

Anxiety?

The pressure to produce...

and produce

and produce...

Can we cry now?

“I do not want, I do not feel...” ~  A.O.S., History Repeats Itself

yeah about that

For years I thought it was our song

sixteen years

the epitome of my love for you

but it was just me in love

and everything manifest 

was of my doing

much-ly for you

and the song was really my song

my heart

and how she bleeds to be

"I'll stop the world and melt with you" ~ Modern English

thursday

 When you walk into the bathroom, open a cabinet and stare for a length of time, look over and your dog is watching, judging you from the doorway but backs away slowly when you holler, "I KNOW WHAT I AM LOOKING FOR!" But you don't, you don't know what you're looking for, not until more time passes.