Tagged: country

we will always be

sunday evening,

it turns out that our

it turns out that our
arms cannot keep one
another’s dragons
at bay. the evenings
are the hardest, as we
climb into bed, carrying
this new weight. the
mornings are the hardest,
as we wake up most
vulnerable, bracing
for a bruising day.
the hours in between
are the hardest, as we
try out every combination
of love and resistance,
endeavoring not to harm
each other in every way

it takes precision

the morning after

the morning after
arrives like any other –
someone cranks the gear

for the sun, checks in on the
chickens first, wakes the cities second

here’s to a nation

in the country of

in this part of the

in this part of the
country, the sun
a heated
wet blanket, an
oshibori of sorts,
as a gesture of
summer’s arrival.
there is, however,
little courtesy
involved, and
the only thing
that feels
wrung are our
withering bodies

once in awhile, you just

once in awhile, you just
have to
get away from the
city, pack the
self-sufficiency, take
the sun

with you.
it’s uncanny
how it works –
another one small
step for man, one
giant leap for

kind of moment