• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 05

red-throated, missing everything

humming humming little songs at the fair, mask on face      breath heavy,
it's my secret in these crowded joints,
tall ceilings and sparkling ceramic miles, i can speak to myself under the cotton unbeknownst to passerby's.

red-throated and
missing everything i've known,
from pillow forts and iced tea breweries
to conversation
like water. i feel so seen in your presence, our mothersongs in harmony. two hummingbirds tracing back love's meaning reunited,

distance as a cruel king,

and his is a soft brainwash of the eternities spent tied together in dreams, a flower red
and a circling dance, "sweet tea in the summer / and tho I can't recall your face / I still got love for you..."

i push the urgency to be together
pray it keeps, so i don't break
so i have strength for my wilderness
and the lurking spies.
but in toasts i feel my eyes swell,
in catch-ups i feel the time not enough,

thank you for the music, for the 3min song. but i'd like the month,
the season, the year.


red-throated, missing everything

the things i'd like to run past you,
the yorks the edinburghs,
the leaps we are afraid to take,
the war and our home as collateral,
a pandemic fading in    fading out, basking on that new normal we talk about so often.

our hours running like an open faucet, the widened highways and infrastructure taking its toll on the days, i resent the difference

as we fly our different directions

and light the count down candle

for next season's encounter.