Cherry trees do blossom daily somewhere
Though frost now bites the glory off your bloom
For fairness cannot flower everywhere
And light that moves must in its trail leave gloom

So during Winter must you plough the soil
And turn its heavy heart to catch the seed
Trusting hope to sprout from roots of turmoil
The way that life and death each other breed

In sowing thus you'll reap the opposite
Begetting Summer's joy from pearls of frost
As time does teach to those who learn from it
You cannot find what has not first been lost

It is the hollow space inside your hand
That shapes a world inside a grain of sand

Sometimes the laughter between  
us could heal a *****.
He would say, “Dear God, my nose is falling  
off, but these two ******* are funny.”
Jesus would say with a grin and a snicker,
“Go in peace my son, you are healed.”

I loved laughing with you Mare.
I felt like a kid that just watched
a five year old accidentally hit his dad in the
nuts with a plastic bat.

When you would get really hysterical,
you‘d make these strange snorting sounds
with your nose.  Our eyes watered like faucets.
I’m crying too now Mare—but not  
from sorrow.  My tears are from sheer joy at
our comedic silly days in the sun together.
I hope you’re laughing too.

Why do I linger
so often
at this midnight hour?

what's it that
lurks in my heart?
I couldn't discover

why couldn't I
forego the before
learn not to remember?

why have I lost
my voice
in strange surrender?

why have I shed
all that I once held
as wondrous splendour?

why have I chosen
to give up my laughter
to embrace tears as dearer?

Giving you my yellow bangles,
The books of the school to be read,
And painting your smiles blue...
So beautiful have you been,
Not wanting my nakedness,
Not wanting my hair.
Passing your hands
Through all of my dresses.
And blue earrings,
Having the sound of my smiles and yours...
And I only remember your teeth.

النگوهای زردم را به تو می دهم
کتاب های مدرسه خوانده می شوند
و خنده هایت را رنگ آبی می زنم
،تو آنقدر زیبا بوده ای
که برهنگی ام را نمی خواهند
موهایم را نمی خواهند
...چشم های تو زیباست
دست هایت را میان تمام لباس هایم کشیده ام
،گوشواره های آبی
صدای خنده های من و تو را می دهند
و من فقط دندان های تو را به خاطر می سپارم

need to swim more
lengthen ma muscles
cool ma brain
float before i hit the drain

need to dive from sweat
into the cool clear deep
snap ma head back into place
sluice the grime offa my soul

float for a small eternity
take a dip to rearrange
ma dna, get in touch with
the primordial me,
osmos some salt, remember
the sea, grow some interal gills
just be just drift, with the tide
be taken not steer,
need to steep and stew and brew...

the smoke haze is settling
now  the landscape wears ashes like
a widows mourning dress

no longer the rage, the flames, the fire
the passionate devourer has been siated

leaving destruction as it's  rememberance

"sometimes profanity offers relief denied even to prayer"
-Mark Twain

god.
I need a Bible.


written in four letter words.

relief.