jornales

for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

the wind

but the wind will come again…

…on altar walls blood-stained by stigmata on finger bones sticking out of grains on the wet scent of rosemary in an old man’s hand on palm fronds skinned for brooms

..on the sea scooped in a wife’s prayer seeking for a mask in blue whales supplications of dying roots the earth represses night eyes uncoiling vines on children’s cheeks

…in your hands a crosshatch of spider web sagged from the sun’s weight unrelenting darkness left for the lightning

on cracked cages 

winded tongues 

unleashed

the other bunny, January 28, 2019

March 4, 2021 Posted by | Uncategorized | , | Leave a comment