Expatriette in...

i need life like i need grace- it turned out this way somewhere between the mayfield lane trees that bind me to our name. their branches cast shadows on desert skies halfway around the world as the sun sets pink and blue and pompous at noon.
in writing, i tell the stories i hope & wait to someday live or fear i will someday live, but either way, they're moments i tragically anticipate & that makes more sense than anything.
at least today, it does...a leel' bit.
after his weathered back embalmed my fingertips and tired my little body, I teetered for him on a wooden block
& it came to matter.
these bodies are still imprinted with spirits in circular ways and dense regular ways
- we call it dermatoglyphics and these thick skin tricks aren't for kids.
but they are innocent ideas and i guess they feel like hope- or at least reverence.
to revere life in the palm prints of the dead- or to at least feel deeply beautiful things sometimesss is the point today.