"Love can change a person the way a parent can change a baby- awkwardly, and often with a great deal of mess."
There is grace as you study me.
Like a wash of mockingbirds up cliffs
drugged with smoked hemp.
You have carried a sunset
into wounds of rose, candles clenched
in star-crystals only I
can pour warm into. Safe
walked the hard balcony; your mouth
opens a forest pollen of orchid
I blow them, prick another tune so you watch as if
at shattered chandeliers.
This is giving into cuddles with small dogs
you look at me, graze each word I have pinned
in my throat, must you swallow hard and even then
I laugh a bowl of teeth.
We believe it wasn’t how we pictured
how close yet, the incense wore harem hands
an artful thread of tissue
flowing into wild hair
and that night preached time
in our favour.
The consequences from believing your own bullshit are much worse than from believing other people’s bullshit. - Michael Lipsey
"The purpose of art is to lay bare the questions which have been hidden by answers."
1. Maybe we’ll see each other in an airport one day. I will be on my way to another book reading (I’ll be more successful then. I’ll have finished that novel I started when I was in love with you), and you will be going on a family holiday. We won’t say anything, but we will exchange knowing…
"My siblings and I archive the blanks in my mother’s memory, / diagnose her in text messages."
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Peter Max (American, b. 1937), Self Portrait #1, 1969. Acrylic on canvas with silkscreen, 24 x 24 in.
Notes About His Hands, Part 1
Could I even tell how it was,
his hip on mine against the wall, my hands
shaking, had I ever touched him that
way in some other life, was his skin
always so hot to the touch, the shirt
I shoved my hands under;
Could I even touch him how he…