amadokirino

[amadokirino]

I want to write something. I look at my words on the page and it’s as if I’m reading the diary of a child. I’m in the valley gazing up and at the peak staring down. And I’m the aged steeple and I am the young churchgoer.

My desire does not change. There is a marrow in the bones/ like the center of abalone, slick with light, and the hush of burning wood on the wind. Dry grass or wet moss thick like skin. A branch held taut at its bends by more branches. A lake gazing at itself in the clouds above it.