from this great height.

i stand with my toes hanging 4 inches
out over the open air.
the small pebbles & stones that
vibrate forward from my trembling heels
spill over the craggy edge & i look down briefly
to only see them disappear in seconds.
my arms shake loosely at my side
& i can feel the bone & grit
stab & press from inside my back.
wings are a painful process.
below me i see the numerous
spots i've stood before.
one after another,
successively getting farther from this great height.
jump.
i've done it so many times in the past
but have always seen where i was landing.
up here, i can't see a damn thing.
i suppose that's the big difference between
jumping & flying.
it'll only be a matter of moments now.
i feel the sharpest bite between my shoulder blades
& the sky turns gray, fills with stars....
then black.

what these hands will do.

we carefully draw lines onto extremely porous paper
& drag a brush, with the perfect amount of paint
from point A to point B, then on to C.
smudge the shadows in
with black, crumbling charcoal
& rub pastels into the sky
like a bride carefully fixing her face.
the scratch of a pencil plants a tree
& builds a house, fills the windows
with light & the air with smoke.
then it rains...
& the colors & the lines & the shapes & the form
slip & distort from the easel to the ground.
& we curse ourselves for being artists that
stubbornly insist on working with the enemy of water.
but it will stop raining.
we will paint again.
under sun & moon, star & air;
our pictures will come back to life.

shoot the hunter.

god, it reeks of kerosene in here
& my boots are dirty with the wet earth
& i burn cigarettes down,
dangerously close to my flammable lips.
my hands are callused & my insides
just as much.
punch me, square in the gut,
as hard as you can.
i'm not asking, i'm telling.
is that all you've got?
i have to sit down.
i have to put all your clothes on
& walk around this room until i find myself
downstairs.
then this dizzy head will finally know where i am.

paralysis.

we were just a bridge we could never quite cross.
it's always hard to put one foot in front of the other
when we convince ourselves we can't walk at all.
so we stand here.
next to each other.
with blank stares & muted mouths
& that bridge stares back with anticipation.
& we stand here.

metal.

thin lipped & kicking at our regrets
we pick apart the dragons
like vultures in our sleep.
there are ashes on our foreheads
& the rider's fast approaching.
coming to take one of us
for all of the weaknesses we believed.
i'd wrap you up inside of me
but these arms are pinned to the wall.
these arms are never enough.
never something we could give up.

grit your teeth, baby,
it's gonna get cold.
we'll fall to a mighty ruin
beneath the things that we were told.
the things that we were told.