I make fire and sit before himclose enough to imagine what burning feels like. You see, fire doesn’t just lightit cooks. And my bones crack with the heat: a dialogue with the crackles of his timbered bonessome sort of recognition between us. We are much alike. And he dissolves with forgiveness all those times whenContinue reading “how far have you walked for men who’ve never held your feet in their laps?*”
"May my body be for what it was intended: an expression of Your grace. And what small ways I make with this poetry – what songs and friendships I form, what migrations and ripples I disturb in the world – may they have something of Your signature on them"
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