As It Is

Joy consummates the soul, sews the ragged seams of one’s heart shut, cleans the wound and filters that putrid mud which has soiled the liquid purity of blood. All to often however, failure is accepted- falling asleep to Parks and Rec. caked in sweat with the volume up so damn loud your own dismal conceptions drown without a second thought, whispering compliments into whiskey bottles hoping they’ll return the favor with friendship become hobbies. When not working or studying for twenty years of debt these are the things that occupy us. No more do we dream of grand fantasies or shout impossibilities to the heavens as if we ourselves are the gods the oceans answer to. No, we are but human, idle and defeated existing under ironbound weights; our skin a canvas of lacerations exclusively okay, never better, never worse.

To find joy, fleeting as it always is, is to realize that the innocent idea of “infinity” lasts a measurable amount of time. A first kiss unexpected and rushed on a school night walking briskly home before Mother realizes that you’re thirty minutes late for dinner, a road trip in rust lasting a week of curse words and cigarettes- I left my accent in West Virginia, the smell however, stayed for another ten days. Each petty attempt at holding back a smile that would strike a sun in the darkness of my gut remained for as long as needed. For a measurable amount of time the chains were lifted, arteries were allowed to heal, the heart allowed to beat. Let this body be a map of cuts and bruises, perpetually determined to convalesce as much as I suffer, I will find my way home cleansed and honest if only for a moment.

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A Change of Pace

Replace windowpanes with cliff faces
Journey to a more natural
State through a pasted collage
Of picturesque contours equating
The bends of our elbows to the
Curves of limestone escarpments and
Speaking- roots break up chrome screens
Covering teeth it hurts at first; to crumble
At the fault of growth, to freeze
In the winter, to warm up and readily accept
Fish spawn hooks strung to poles in the summer,
Then it simply
Doesn’t anymore, we breathe
Sink sipping into eagle feathers
Seeing an aerial view as if being
Human is a stepping stone and this
Is where we truly belong
Syncopating ground with atmosphere
Here with there moving in slow grace
To nature migrating look!
To nearest distance: a sunset of whitetail deer
Envelops a lighthouse purls
At a beach decorated with soft sangria-capped fossils

A Reluctant Release From The Past

Forgoing formal goodbyes
Transcribed grateful passing amongst
Midnight in June
A steady stream of water river bank
Pebbles waiting to become
Mementos
Used for archaic architecture
A gathering place of
Distant remembrance,
Longing for nevermore tactile
Grass scents, cut and stepped on
Dew transferred from earth ridden tear ducts
To water ladened chemical vitality,
Blisters acquired vocal
Reimbursement
Lipstick catharsis pre-
Proposed future dispositions
Laminated betwixt scarring tissue,
Took fears spoken out of
Contemplation in hypothetical circumstance,
Self-fulling fantasies forged
Around laughter within earshot
Of better probability,
A cup of coffee, another ember
Burning softly, familiar
Homesick hymns whispered among interchanging
Dependency,
From the mouth of a raging river
Or beginning of a youthful summer
Everything seems so substantial