Month: November 2025

die right and perhaps everything else will make sense

autumn a ghost of futures past arrives on forbidden shores

to have gotten this far this bag of flesh and bone at half life salutes the divine and cosmos now if you’ll excuse me i have a life to live

soft as a waking breath i dream and exist autumn butterfly

press fingertips into clay as small moons bulge and emerge glow faintly in the dark creation accepts the touch of warmth

ash dyed the red of blood and dusk as fingers and palms of night’s children paint fervored strokes and layers ascending from light to dark then finally descend as one tribe bringing night upon this world

shadows lay in a circle beneath the fullness of the autumn moon hands held and seeking the blessings of luna

flee gently the cascade of limbs from mattress to floor crossing soft boundaries and running out the door and into the autumn winds of freedom