along the mountain
the snow and the rocks
on all sides
hundreds cold and sharp

upwards I climb
inside my heart
the sweat, the whisper
the warm and the dark

all for the jump
the kiss and the tongue
my squinting face
and my free among
my fall from the top
the wind and the song
a careless plunder
while fear moves on

then into the ground
the blood and the spit
a land in violence
then I pray, repent

my eyes popped out
strung grapes or balloons
looking back at me
and here’s what I choose…

onto my feet
the noise in the head
and along my neck
the Voice whispers again

fresh masking tape
on blue wet paint
falling to the floor
and I do not think
I can hold together
anymore

One month down in a new town and the dust has settled round.  Home.  This place is right.

I live in Dallas now.  I have an office job.  And I have been listening to music that haunted my dreams up in Portland (God I miss her), and I see that seasons are ours to own.  Mine and yours.  They are many and they are necessary.
[read more]

this needs to happen. this and that.
and all the things we seem to label benign.
they need to happen. let them.
don’t tell me you are so naive.
they are not benign. they are messy.
you are messy. they need to happen.

O God,
O God,
it is me
that you love
and I can
scarcely fathom
my heart above
how I feel
just now
when you say
it is me
that you love

O God of strength
my God of weight
have mercy
on me
i’m about to break
and bear lightly
upon my soul
for just a little
is far too great
mercy, O, God of love
have mercy
on me