There are probably 14 little stickies on my dish soap bottle right now. Al in little clusters here and there, most of them around the top shoulders by the bottle’s squeeze top.
You know, those little stickers that come on apples, tomatoes, bananas….
we will step down when you have lain aside your armored vests and shown us you bleed too we will stay our marching feet the day you tell us why we all amount to something less than cattle you must cull we put aside our gasoline and stifle our red embers at the very moment that you make one single barefoot clear-eyed step toward us with your hands over your h […]
i. what if I gave you a newspaper hat for a crown and named you king of muddy toes and tangled hair? the sheets balled up around our feet could be the only robe you ever need to wear ii. we rub our palms together like the crickets’ singing feet you have opened your jar to let the fireflies celebrate their freedom and ours with light and treetop dances iii. s […]
did you know that I would find my feet again on this shale road— dozen razors in the bathtub left to rust another month did you carry on daydreaming that my binges would dissolve like too much sugar in the tea, the burdened green of summers spent at home did you hang the eyelet curtains to remind me how I cried when Nana prayed did you know I would live long […]