Everything seems terrible because it is
Similarly, everything seems beautiful
Because it is
We hold paradox as a lifeline
A bouquet without a fridge
A bitter barter against suffering
Between cracks, stars
Between stars, the vacuum of space
And the place I absorb malice
That I can’t respond to
I said I’m so angry we were all abandoned by the world
You said you sure hide it well
But you’ve never seen my intestines eating my stomach
And you’ve never seen cutlery chewing on my thighs
Just the way I spin metal to make chain
And the songs I sing to Chiron
If you pan out far enough
Anything can look perfect
Dig your fists into your eyes
Let the stars blur
And let that speak to the idea that
I am kind of a miracle and so are you
That you can be grateful and bitter at the same time
That you can be an orphan while a parent is still alive
All of the angry angles where these truths intersect
Leave soil heavy
Compressed
Pushing out roots
At night I listen to the frogs in the field
And plead
Please don’t let me become my father
I want to know how to hold fear
When it is so tangled in other people
I want to know how to hold people
When they are so bound to fear
Indifference is the invention of sorrow
Or was that hope?
Is my armor a casket
A boat
Or both?
In the dark
I can’t see my hand in front of my face
But I can sense my cursive veins
Writing anthologies of reception
thistle breath 