Road Kills

grace

is the act of restraint and road-kill is not a sport

Cement displays

its injuries with no regrets.

Flesh in a porcelain finish—because breaking apart was

only the first step.

Death: a thrift store mirror, cracked in all the bright places.

Roadkill. How it talks back.

Question : Are we there yet?

Feel the wind coming in fours.

Listen to the seasons galloping. The hunters dropping

quail mid-flight.

Kneel if you’ll take me, lips flushed past open.

Kneel any... See more

the air is clear with anticipation,

But its real strength lies in the quiet tension of isolation

And living patiently, without atonement or regret,

In the eternity of the plain moments, the nest of care

—Until suddenly, all alone, the mind is lifted upward into

Light and air and the nothingness of the sky,

Held there in that vacant, circumstantial b... See more

The loneliness comes and goes, but the blue holds

Roadkill. How it talks back.

Question : Are we there yet?

What creature stands its ground

after evisceration? Roadkill.

There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in... See more