Let me breathe somewhere deep. The scraggy mountains call to me, entreating why I do not run or leap, or bound or climb their limbs. Breathe. And taste the line where sky and stone meet. But my feet are soft, the mountains far and my body lax with care. For while I leap and dance … Continue reading The Taste of Sky
Last the days though one night is impossible. Survival through sheer what? Enduring cannot be wasting and withering, and begging for death. Many others have survived. Speak of the night like a fond ghost story, still tingling with horror, because newborns are worth it. Worth it... It's not the worth I fear, nor the lack … Continue reading Morning Sickness
Fill me full of dreams while an angel destroys a kitchen and burns holes in the carpet with a child's dream of a match bonfire. Say I may have luck while reprimanding the me, the mom, because the angel spilled the juice left soda on the stairs and got into, yet more matches. Say I'm … Continue reading The Responsible Party
I know there is the sublime to reach for. Kneeling with fire in her hands and golden beauty as her cloak. But I'm here. Single-wide bad paint job debt and treeless sand. I know, somewhere, exists a dream maker. Framed with lightning, outstretched wings, and a rain of crystal or diamonds. But I'm here. Sick … Continue reading Not Living the Sublime
Ah, son of star I see you, up there, blinking and wavering from the constant burn. What you wouldn't give to fall from heaven and dive into the ocean. But the ocean is vast and dark and cold, and so very unlike the family of stars. Burning, as they may, from the essence of their … Continue reading Son of Star
*To a slow jazz tune* Last night I was dreaming I was singing not on Broadway or a big stage just somewhere with ears to hear Maybe quivre'n with fear like me like me. I was dreaming I was singing like I use to in a small school strong with youth. In perfect harmony all … Continue reading Dreaming of Singing (song)
What options are left in times like these? When I have sunken down so deep the sunlight cannot reach and I can't see any rising bubbles. I go right, it's still black I go left, might as well turn back, and, perhaps, I hadn't turned at all. So, do I sink or do I float? … Continue reading Stuck in the Deep
You have my summers, My pre-school years, And all the baby moments Still trapped behind ears. Broad fingers giving illusions That your hands are big, Fit for holding A baby. You say I was one Once. An angel. Hands to hold an angel. But I came in to hug you Now, then, not long at … Continue reading Grandpa
My love, You were raised with your father's ideals but by your mother's pragmatism. When talents first bud upon your hands, you clapped for joy and squished them between your palms, making room for more, but not height for growth. My love, You spy the light on the other side with delight, for look, a … Continue reading Wet Wings
I seek a green place in a world claimed by everyone, and every speck of giving land already giving or given up. I seek a mountain far away, where no one seeks to climb. Except those who seek me out for me and me alone. I seek diamonds not for their worth but for their … Continue reading A Green Hill Faraway
Author T.S. Lowe 