Prose & Poetry

welcome home, starling

you are safe now

Eulogy

Eulogy

This poem is no eulogy. 
I can’t keep raising you
from the dead like this. 

I can’t keep dragging
your name through the mud. 

I can only kiss the dirt
that frames your body,

and let this pain
flood. 

I want you to know
that the rain hasn’t
stopped falling in days. 

The wind is only a whistle
away from your lips, and
my hands only know how
to exist within the afterlife
of your own. 

I have learned, that you can
only say goodbye so many times, 

before you have no
more words left to
say.  

Little Machinery Called Heart

Little Machinery Called Heart

Not Everything Is About Burning: A Creation Myth

Not Everything Is About Burning: A Creation Myth