What happens when Icarus lands?
Survivor energy, the end of parenthetical afterthought.
Mostly oral but now and then penetrative, me mostly always on bottom, always amazed at what the cosmos allows: her face coming, her hands clenching my hands so hard they hurt, holding my arms away from my body, a million wild gods coming into being.
Combing through my mother's cookbooks, remembering the joy of cooking with her, the love we shared in kitchens.
How years ago K. and I tried spanking but couldn't make it work, struggling and failing to refactor consent.
Your prism is also my prism because no joke there is only one prism.
My grandfather's body repeats itself in me.
Cold noodles with pepper sauce.
I've had a handful of lovers since the wedding, most all of them better at managing hospitals than I am.
Well, Dad is dead for one thing, and there's been a lot of changes in the towns where I grew up for another, and I have no social skills to speak of but I am less quick to judge, a surprisingly helpful development.
The family that makes pizza together makes peace together and we make a lot of pizza.
Think of pennywhistles on the Titanic, think of them at the bottom of the sea and ask: what are you thinking of?
If there's no conflict, then efforts to resolve it can only bring about conflict, yes?
You walk a long time some nights (distant and time are identical), the familiar landscape deepening around you, darkening, but getting nowhere, which is the only lesson walking is given to teach.
Mouth full of the salt spray of the sea.
You are not indifferent but neutral, and the distinction is the only distinction that matters so please - for all our sakes - figure it the fuck out.
I loved haying, how happy and busy we were all were, dust motes everywhere in the gold light.
Horizons everywhere, undulating folds of the cosmos.
Promises a fox makes.
Boxes of ash, boxes of light, boxes of bones keeping us up all night.