scrambled

she was not afraid of unlit interiors

although the time came

inspired by his courage

and his midnight tenderness's

that she did away 

with unnecessary accoutrements

and reveled in the laughter

born in the back yard

of their hearts

sometimes there is so much joy

it is impossible to contain

and the lines drawn across her face from years of searching

became scrambled

like some wild dance

contemplation

There is a kind of ugliness, a rawness, an authenticity that comes from being stripped back, 

unravelled,

unhealed,

revealed.

Our humanness, so beautiful in its awkwardness. 

Dark ringed eyes after long nights spent feeding a small child from the milk of your bones. Or a day packing boxes of small lights and surgical masks, your poetry in hiding, your fists in the air. Or the failure to touch each other when, even after all of it, you are not too tired to try. 

Flawed

Floundering

Fearless

sadness

the sound of rain 

an insight

a kiss before dawn

the twisting sleep of a little girl against my skin

outrage

kindness

hammering across the street

a crack in the sky

sunlight

Performance 3

for yoko

separate 

the sea spray

from your saliva

that beauty

is at times wretched

is inevitable

Performance 2

for yoko

draw 100 self portraits

tear each one up into the smallest pieces possible

freeze each piece in an ice cube

have a  party

use the ice at the party

a) only invite people you like

b) only invite people you don't know