Job of love during a time—unsticks patterns
Ashes hunting the very structures raised from our night fears
Person has to think for herself rounded by once-agains
How easy it is to slip in grooves, build walls to hide behind,
turn other into black hole out of which demons all come out
It is so cold here where I am cold towards you
Turning around a corner I stake out,
carve exits in inscribed cycles
Old spells burn, sound of parchment turns inside out,
light growing in center
Tuft by tuft we sew ourselves back together
Kin networks we know ourselves to be
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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