Poetry as therapy
Subscribe:.rss.atom.json.md.m3u.pls
Live Last read · last published · next check
Saves to your Listen queue, to pick up on another day or another device.
A good fire, like anything worth truly loving Requires an infrequent but intense attention Some people think that means adding more fuel Others, that if you stack it just right to begin with, It will burn forever For me, it takes reaching in to all that heat and ash To find the thing that has collapsed Shifting, prodding, removing Whatever you gotta do So that things can breathe again
A *Minor* threat...
When the apples in the four corners of my house withered and browned, and cast their acrid saccharine smell through every room, I knew my sins were seen and had caused a great offense.
Before I was forced to leave, they gave me a packet of marigold seeds.
I’ve been thinking a lot about home.
Sparrow’s nest perched 12 stories high. Even with a tilted sky. No longer looking up at what might be From a vantage that might be best summed up unequally Outward Highways stretch toward rolling hills Dotted nature and manufactured possibility Literally looking down on an overcooked tenderloin So blackened even the sparrow refuses the thick slab. But he must listen, and therefore must imagine.…
I'll be your wingman any time.
...Blowing straight into the face of time 🎵
I used to watch the train charge through our dusty town Steady, indifferent, bullish And the world stopped and watched What else could it do? I wondered at the mysterious cargo - The land it would weave through That only the lonely conductor would see To carry such weight alone To push forward in any weather To whither yard and why I pictured myself jumping aboard The where and why Devised…
A gift? An omen?
