Brassweight Heavy as the censor; light as the smoke.

When someone steals your heart, you really don’t want the portion they stole back. What you want is for them to keep it safe. You really don’t want them to stomp on it or torture it, and you really, really don’t want them to kill it by killing themselves (wholly or bit-by-bit). When someone steals [

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Here my watch; my geas: This centaur the Friesian’s guardian. Soon, very soon that mare runs of her own — Even the pasture is too small I see. Filed under: Poetry

You say you are chief of sinners. If I know I’m worse, is that prideful? aBandoned cheese factory recipes sold hand-cheddaring’s gone remember the taste The pierced lamb stands on the throne under the star where the young child lay From His side poured blood and water. John saw it and his witness is

ice silently drips from the eaves only the bells for Mass are louder the peal of the bells wakes me hours before they begin to ring for Lauds the bells of Vigils keep me awake long after we finish chanting in the refectory spilling the salt is louder than a bomb blast I miss the quiet [...]

you are there in the shadows even when I am not thinking of you i am your captive oh god do i pull near or do i push away your face Filed under: Poetry

young adult drama can be more tiresome to parents than teenage angst no photograph, regardless how well done, can capture the smell of your skin Filed under: Poetry

how easily dreams of night turn violent I leave bed quickly mares graze safely near a stallion too old to stud but he remembers God built the Friesien to run, to run, to run free she stays in her stall she’s worn pathways through a mountain of life’s refuse – won’t hear cries for help [...]

Lighting lampadas Before the icons, prayer Rises like incense I cannot chant Liturgy With no antimens Canonical Release Almost everything Can be said in seventeen senryu syllables We drove between Yakima and Tieton All Lit Fuze weekend. these old vaults used to hold apples. now they cannot contain w