Flow

I *think* poems in the car

On the toilet seat

At the opening of my sleep

Because

I don’t really know why

For some reason these places conduct (produce) flow

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Nothing

The joy of

Being able to hold hands for the longest time with someone you love

Even as it seems still like borrowed time

And you know [on Monday] you’ll part

To freeze time

I would

 

What I would

Do

 

What I would do

To turn back time

To do it all over again

Even if we were to make the same mistakes

Say the same words

Do the same things

What I would do to see \italicize{that} smile [I cannot remember] 4 inches from my face

 

4.15.2019

The first half is about familial love

The second half is about romantic love

I wrote it on the ride back from The Berkshires as I was cherishing the last moments of holding Joanne’s hands in the backseat of the car with Mom driving and Jocelyn sitting up front.

Until the next time.

I miss mom already. 

This trip wasn’t restful, as there were so many things I was recovering from, and other unsettling things coming in anew. It was cathartic. That is the most accurate word.

It is well.

God is good.

Fragile Humans

“People who shut their eyes to reality simply invite their own destruction, and anyone who insists on remaining in a state of innocence long after that innocence is dead turns himself into a monster.”
– James Baldwin

1 part Pretense

1 part Earnestness

Bubble. Smooth. Leaven.

Add new voices.

Mix.

Bake New.


Holding onto the promise and truth that my God makes beautiful things out of dust.