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