rapid squirrel
open hearted field soaked with late summer sun no audience for this fervent laughter prickle green trees and cut fruit holding the back end of silence and stillness my back arches in a years old shirt sustenance that is only beginning
Rebekah Froehlich
abstraction
read your face like a bible your name in thick, black ink we can't keep doing this there's a haste in my words a broken fever I'm covering up like a child with their hands and their knees in the dirt
overconsumption
kneel on my knees let her stand over me this prize, but a consolation make a comment watch her laughter sting the air life is but the simplest of pleasures
grievance
soft, sweet yearning gentle tone I'm caught wanting to be alone mouth drawn open eyes wide shut learning can't just be enough take my time say all my prayers broken open, can't compare
working through it
disgusting act can't make myself stay or say go away drive home to nail down an inexorable point can't take even a hint of rejection moving toward something or moving around head spin dizzy from constant counter movement not your fault but it's not
essence
my ghost haunts this land overrun with consequential yearning one year stretched into a lifetime of sweet, soft pain built a life on emotional solitude look back at a body that stinks of the dead I'm not used to this undoing ends of a plastic cord melted with
disconsideration
I look for you everywhere Sick summer searching Open and rolling around I notice a glimmer out the corner of my eye Offer myself up to the ground Water the plants of longing
reaction
Jet black, escape with the cut of the limb Answer to a new god Jokes in the parking lot I'm tired of making excuses, coming up with a different fact Organize places and shapes and faces and names Get on the ground now, get in for a second
insertion
light covered darkness spills out in a cool breath anchor in knowing and loving difficulty hiding this truth in metaphor anoint myself to a new journey slick skin stretching with time distance myself from the valley over twisted lines
rep #10
Cut blind, make an excuse for what it is that I have. Lift out, duck under, this doesn't feel like a jab. Scrape quick, out of the bottom for some of the useful stuff. Ache and moan, bitch and grown, now I know when I've had
passerby
I'm up and over the edge and this question comes to me. I break on the bank of this paltry image of you. Stand in the wake of the rare thing that can be the beginning of becoming. Stick straight, out and around, it flows through me now.
little boy fishermen
In the same way we've always been, we are one. I can't explain this to anyone, I don't want to even try. I'm here and I'm alone, and I'm there and I never am. I'm allowed