Wednesday, March 24, 2010

breathe in deep
with my brother
King Fisher.

i'm kindred
with the air
this spring.

this is the spring
of my healing,
of my awakening.

Monday, March 15, 2010

these are the things carried by crows

Your words taste like mud on my tongue
but in the best way:
like your language is the first
springing forth from mountains;
ancient as water.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

hey you, get a grip

the crooked boards feel like home on these tender feet.


it's been a winter for the books,
what i'm really saying is (jesus, get to the point)
it's been far too long.

i'm ready to walk face first into the sun

-one two unbuckle my shoes and
let me step out onto the stones
warmed by promise and breath;

gash the soles of my feet on hope and
let me hold my warm blood in these hands
cracked open and ready to heal.


this arrow has lived forever
rolled up in a ball of mud
created by me, for me.


These fields break my heart -
reminds me of days with dads
and counting phone poles
for fun.