Sit on my sill
dim and heavy
where vines sip thick mist.
where vines sip thick mist.
lamp lights on the sunken road
lift lamented souls
lift lamented souls
who yowl to pot holes
for their cavernous stutter
on the muddy path.
I cannot help but cry.
for their cavernous stutter
on the muddy path.
I cannot help but cry.
See my insides flutter,
feel my veins
whisper tunnels to my organs
and listen as my own descant
echoes and awakens
the swollen night.
feel my veins
whisper tunnels to my organs
and listen as my own descant
echoes and awakens
the swollen night.
e. chayes
Dear Erica,
ReplyDeleteYou astound me continually with your combination of a poet's soul and your easy mastery over technique, whether it's a song you wrote and sang or an essay you composed or a picture you took. You are a natural in every sense of the word. Though not one drop of my blood flows in your veins, I am so proud of you, and honored to be your uncle!
Love Chris
Wow, Chris. You nearly just made me cry. What an amazing thing for you to say: both beautiful and inspiring. Blood is just the tiniest of ties that makes family. I think soul's where the true connection is and you sure as hell's got that! You are one of the greatest uncles ever for passing it onwards my way! Lots of love. Thank you again for your wonderful words. xx
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