when Jesus resurrected, he
was not new, bore the
holes in his body, summoned
Thomas to flesh to hold and to
prod with a tremble

when I resurrected, I
was not new, wore the
scars on my body like
stitches of story, echoed the
anguish of bones as
marks on the skin

Christ, feel the wound in my side, I
fear I am still bleeding


9/15/17

The Heart-heavy

Like a wet cloth over
The heart, heavy
Feel it in the marrow of the
Bones, itching in the muscles but a
Tired. Seems a hanging of the
Head like the spine was removed
But, move like quake lines of the earth
Hidden but hungry and
Stretching empty and full across
Foreign expanse

Bruise a layer beneath
the skin, I am not purple or blue but
Inside I am a sea of endless contusing
Concussed in the brain: i am nothing
Sign the cross from forehead to shoulder, cross
Your neck with a fist, hands closed to
Mimic the knot in your throat from
which you fasten a noose

Of dust I am and to dust I shall return.


9/20/17

How can they love
you, funny face, so
clumsy with words, clumsier
still with heart, always
spilling about like a
river with no bed, rough and
cussing about its edges, but
how can a river have edges when
it yet roars and trembles in
every direction, shapeless as the
space you try to call home.

but there are no boundaries
to trace the lines of feeling
safe, a place to
sleep and be whole

How can they love a broken,
how could they love you


9/21/17

lonely stung like a
hornet's nest, an
unexpected something while
wandering the mess

lonely singed the flesh like
candle wax, winced from
the sensation of burning

lonely lost its voice
calling for companions, but
lonely is still lost while it
meanders endlessly

lonely is a loss, feels like
an ever-deepening hole in the body
sink the darkening bruise, drop skin
in a blaze of swelling


9/15/17

paper cuts

i kept your love folded as a
letter in my heart
i felt the edges creased with the
warmth of your wrist,
traced the ink with my finger
right before i let the charred bits
fly from my palm to a breeze

my heart holds both a furnace and a grave
where i buried you with flames


if i said i miss you, what does that make me?

I'm still angry at you. but I still love you
somewhere in my heart.



k.e.
if you see this, tell me.