Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
’Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Hello Leander, tucked into cloth, tiny lion
who yawns through the virus and tear gas.
You are a new scent of heat.
Before any scar grazes your legs
I would show you the rows of bicycles
in burned colors, and whistles and cardinals
who pin the cold snow. You hold a small
share of what it means to be here.
When the air shatters around you,
gold and marine, please know you belong.
You are half sky, half butterfly net, alive
to friends and strangers, fast to net
and trust. There is nothing
that is not worth much. Arrayed
in overalls and tackle-box, you should grow
to see the deep green rains, the roads
brushing the clouds. To compass
all you have done from a porch in late life
and listen to the bees who, woolen
and undeterred, have returned. I hope
you stay warm inside the white dusk of
morning. No one stays unscathed
but you have days of summer to grow
into your thoughts and learn the great
caring tasks. You have yards of treelight
to race through under the birds’ low song-
swept radiances. The trills you hear
are glass grace. They are singing.

Such as the lobster 
cracking loose 
from its exoskeleton 
after moons of moulting,  
or the viper that squeezes 
out of the skin 
of its remembrance, 
this oracle invites you
to rewild yourself,
to unbox, detox, and de-
clutter your blood. 
Break free from the mold
you made for yourself, 
for the animal 
in you that craves 
routines like sugar,
addicted to the stress 
of your comforts. Sling 
your arm around the waist 
of your discomfort
like it’s a new lover
in these uncharted 
seas and distances 
untraversed. Take
and give glee. 
Summon surprise.
Something whim-
sical this way comes. 
It smells something 
like wishes wrapped 
in wind as you
trod the winding path 
through 
the forests 
of your interior. 
Be warned. You will
bewilder beloveds. 
Hush. Some 
events are better
experienced than 
explained. Take soul.
Your joy is your job;
and yours alone. 
Hire your
self every day. 
Climb into your traveling
shoes knowing that
there, too, will 
be dancing.

i breathe them in each night
a shallow breath of scaly skin
i breathe deep & think
of the shrimp’s crooked smile
i breathe deeper & am thankful
for the lobster’s claw
i know this is a type of love
and dream for their flesh to never know harm nor hurt
to never know run and hide

i know this is a type of love
because my cheeks grow warm
               my hands fling at the stars
               i dance a dance all my own
               there is music in my chest

i know this is a kind of love
because i think of my family
how they smile & i smile too
i always think of love & soft feather beds
because the water is perfect for me & when i close
my eyes i only see a garden growing upwards
towards the sun that is really a smile
& the water washes away the dust
of my night screams
love is an open door
a boat swimming against a purple glory
& syrup spun sugar
& i breathe & breathe & breathe
love ’til we become

The mouth of the mother is the mouth of a wolf. We do not know what is wrong with her, her siblings said, your mother. She has always been that way, as though that way was specific, identifiable, understood among all creatures. She has always been full of fear, petulance, and violence, often traveling from pasture to pasture at night, lamenting her state of being with dolorous howls, her throat full of rasping teeth and starlings. She is a great reaver and spewer of blood, they said, but also flees when met with the slightest resistance, and then hunches into a shivering lump to play martyr. She birthed and devoured a hundred babies before she had you. There was nothing we could do to stop her, either from the birthing or the devouring. Why she did not eat you we do not know, but agree the living was worse for you, that is, until you escaped. We did not think it possible. She carried you around by the scruff of your neck, slung you against rocks, pinned you under her forepaws and bathed you in her moldered breath until you screamed. She taught you nothing, neither to hunt nor to flee, and left you shivering upon the cold rock, scoured by winter sun and blasting winds. She was not a wolf. Not even close. She sent you to vacation Bible school. There you learned questionable crafts and the gentle terror of Jesus. We wanted to intervene, but ancient codes prevented it. When you bled, we looked away. When you ran into the sky, we cheered for you. She raged in your absence, slaughtering rabbits in the garden and digging endless tunnels into the earth. Now you have returned. Her mind is a ruin. She is a small child trapped on a merry-go-round. It would be a kindness to sing to her.

The room is aching
                       the way I wanted to
                sail
                 with super-silk
                                   on our silica
                                          -ed secret
                                                            an everywhere slip
                             into the nightgown
                                of you
                                  the failure of form
                                                      only the mouth can make
                                                so much
                                                       to glide upon
                                    I detest my need
                                                       of you
                                    the failure
                               of my body
                                            to produce
                                anything but ink 
                    useless time
                                and again
                                            against my tongue
                                                                 you taste awful
                                                        I know
                                            you can’t save me
                                                        you are the location where
                                            I save myself
                                when I am out
                                                       of my body
                                you cull me back
                    with a glissade
                                foamed with impatience
                     frothed with an imagination
        I detest
how easy I thought
        it was to know myself
to continuously learn
                    I only know the failures
                                of us
                    together, you could never
                                        satisfy me
                                                        you are the only thing
                                I know how to ride
                    when everything else fell away
you brought me back
         to show me how easy it is
to fall
     or at least
         that is what I told myself
                                to keep myself
                                           satisfied amidst the failures
                                                        of friction
                                                                    how I lose you each time
                                            I insist on perfection
                    my body could never be
                                            what I demand
        of you