uncraved october
My summer-saturated body hasn't accepted that it is October. Today i biked with no sleeves, in shorts, the weight of September sun baring down, the cool breezes fast-forwarded from winter waiting in every shady patch.
Meditating on a vision of what this heart looks like: Frankenstein-thick stitches, how we never have enough time or space for mourning, the ivy of our sadness growing brittle & thick around whatever was left of our voice: that one voice we made together in the dark green sunsets over the city.
Like being together in the playgrounds at night. Not to repair kiltered childhoods, but for the fully present experience of buoyancy. Of the soaring pendulum in the tummy
weightless flight
Only my ass on a hard bend of rubber
chains pinched to the hips
& your hand landing at the soft of my back
regular as a calendar year, steady as a
new battery
Meditating on a vision of what this heart looks like: Frankenstein-thick stitches, how we never have enough time or space for mourning, the ivy of our sadness growing brittle & thick around whatever was left of our voice: that one voice we made together in the dark green sunsets over the city.
Like being together in the playgrounds at night. Not to repair kiltered childhoods, but for the fully present experience of buoyancy. Of the soaring pendulum in the tummy
weightless flight
Only my ass on a hard bend of rubber
chains pinched to the hips
& your hand landing at the soft of my back
regular as a calendar year, steady as a
new battery