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The atmosphere is thin with cold

From this distance

the city is silent


Soft waves roll across the flat of sand

A rush of whispering voices that

come & go


My fingers are slowly numbing


I need some suffering here, too, on the outside of me



The quiet glow of humanity illuminates the horizon

I am suspended there

At the edge of the fade, contemplating water & ether

Time is accelerating, speeding

I am dashed by it; dragged


I need the stars again

I need the clarity of their constancy & the awe of a child


I want to say, I need you


And I do need you, but I cannot even spare breath for those three words

While my palms bleed from holding them in

& down; deep


Do I move toward the quiet of darkness

or the roar of the light? This is always the question


Then I think,

if I lay long enough on that shore, the surf will slowly roll all my sharp edges smooth



'A word after a word after a word is power.' 

-Margaret Atwood

The English language was the only instrument I was ever meant to play in this life. Stories and poems are a way of letting the air into rooms that have long been left unvisited. Whatever may have brought you here today, I hope the journey resonates with you.

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