radishes
07.15.2017-07.31.2017
sharp red handful walking the perimeter of the house
that isn’t a house it’s a room that fell off someone else’s
this heater isn’t a real heater but this winter won’t be a real
winter so the math works out, the mail comes reluctantly
but often
beast & me we hold hands & with the other hand
radish to mouth, sharp right out of the ground so then
the game of pages, make the new ones with the old ones
all these kinds of breaking breaking in
look the radio in the eyes but the video won’t populate
it’s a mood, looking, it’s a leafy green escape hatch i kept
ignoring until someone threw me out of it
the library outdates the miles but most of the books don’t
make it the final hundreds, maybe books are the most
necessary lover & confidant, maybe you can’t flatten your feet
on rubble, maybe you were waiting to be ready, maybe you’re waiting
still for a line you can barely remember, maybe you forgot radishes
come out of the earth & so did you
it’s a mood, looking, ⭐️⭐️⭐️
Love this idea. Your poems this month have been *such* a mood, that cozycountry room shack. Intimacy, solitude, Vibe cottage kitchen music💯!!!
Jared! thank you for seeing the whole mood. it was a pleasure to swim around in your poems, too. what a sea!
JJ how did we have synchronized radishes of all roots!! 🩷
synchronized radishes are the miracle we needed <3