sometimes when my brain is congested, it coughs, and words come out.

“you belong here. your heartbeat makes the universe more beautiful.”

(this is a place i belong, and know)
every river has its own courage,
returning again to its birth.
things die and are born

even the earth, it hides
its emotions beneath the mountains,
inside oceans and flowers and trees—
secret, but still alive
and volcanic

the earth loves, like every living thing,
even the forgotten
veins, exposed and gasping
in the dust

we have this notion that we rule,
like gods, that we fill space
and air and land
but we cant comprehend our place
except from the sky, looking down

or looking up into the night; there
we find what it means to be small and
maybe brave,
moving back into dying light,

time i will never experience
or touch
or taste,
but what i had was beautiful,
and that is enough.

the dust dances too



wonder is folded into everything.
before, and after
the air and lightning (where words travel)
the grass and ocean puddles
—drops of rain
in the creases of our palms
(and universe),
the simple way
our hearts know the rhythm of each other.

- the dust dances too

there are things only the pines know:
secrets and dreams
ripe and sweet scented—
i remember once, the way it felt getting lost
with you
and the way the air curled itself against us,
the taste of it on our tongues
when we howled at the moon,
there was no world
except this one, this world we created
lost beneath the branches.
and i knew that even if we,
like wolves, were to devour that love,
it would still exist somewhere in our blood steam.

- the dust dances too

“i love you with claws
and lungs, a longing
to tear open the sky
to feel against me warmth
(your shade and color)
to be burned by
that beautiful quality
of light.”

“to create cosmos from chaos;
this is why we write and breathe and love.”

i think i’ve found a place,
a somewhere in the dark feathers of the night
and dewy light of stars between our toes and on our lips,
(are we in this world, or another?) the wild and beautiful,
perchance we’ll stay here forever,
or fly away.

- the dust dances too

crawl in and pull the shadows close.
i listen to the perfect echoes,
the thunder of your blood and bones; 
it’s here i find the secrets
that keep storms away.

- thedustdancestoo

don’t forget,
our skin 
and bones
are living
memories.

- the dust dances too

“and here, with you, i wonder if we have the power to control weather. or waves. to mold patterns and movements and air with our hands and our lips. we are unpredictable and destructive and perfect (aren’t we?). i wonder if we might be deities, or just children— lost and aimless, swept away and clinging to each other. hoping. dreaming. touching nature and praying for something beautiful.”