there was an eclipse. there she’d love to have seen it one time there was one. up here the world fell dead silent. the light went even paler when she thinks of not looking into the blue of those blue eyes ever again she recall that quietness such prolonged fear of loss. then the loss that frees the gaze for shifting
writings
From pieces
07.16.2017
unlatch |ʌnˈlatʃ| verb she unlatches the barn
07.16.2017
girl with no daddy, is a barn with no walls girl without daddy, is a barn without doors girls without dads are barns without openings barns without daddies are girls with no openings an opening with a girl without daddy is no — girls with barns are openings without daddies
04.09.2017
april is the sweetest month! anemones’ rise. as foetuses in acidic soil. pale greetings withstand a winters’ grieve paws or hooves. or hearts make way flavouring buds and shoots a blind recurring grace
01.09.2017
vipperne mod huden. hurtigt. ned/op igen i én bevægelse berøring/af fravær — den mest præcise afstand, til dine døde septembermorgenen i dis solen tung og hvid/hæver sig rødkløver i vasen/fra jorden — det sidste slægtsbånd/i live
12.20.2016
at least six lapland longspurs mixed in with thousands of horned larks easily found by listening for their distinct rattle calls also a single white pelican today. it crossed in low (less than 100 feet away), gained elevation and headed west
12.07.2016
— are you happy? — will you be warm enough? your skin and your freckles and your fur and eyelashes, all under. for a split second, the rebirth in catching your breath again high tide. 39,2 °f crushed shells from the seagulls. scattered on wooden planks pay attention to not cut your bare feet when you get up out of the water
11.21.2016
we ended up lavished. seeing birds that were new to us gila woodpecker, cactus wren and the rosy-faced lovebird but we enjoyed seeing others too. familiar and the milky-way; a backbone bonfire with sparks filling the sky on our way south all the blessed hours. tracing sweetness home the ordinary years of cold. dew. drifting seagulls. origin left behind a veil of distance [flares up or melt] a fledging heart
10.07.2016
in this thick fall wind that pushes on the highrise/building with big shoulders — as a bison leaning to scratch an itch before the crisp of frost will clear the air. make all blue bluer, and bodies quiet there’s a bee still on it’s wings. swimming upwards on currents. dancing drowsy between gusts making it’s way home graceful as the daylight. turns to honey
09.01.2016
— around 5:00 this morning one black-billed was still present, although it proved to be very difficult to find. spent over two hours looking for it and only saw it once, but it is in the area. seemed to be staying close to nashville warblers. this is the first day of fall
