Tag: living words

• water me

  threads of being 

  curl through every cell

  of this body

  arms   chest    heart

  opening like a flower

  crying nectar at the 

       sunrise

  penetration of light

  both

       pleasure and

            pain

  

  2026.04.07

• where do you see reflections of yourself?

  Feet pull me out the door

  And wind runs fingers

  through my hair

  It’s familiar:

  this soft, electric air

  between the storms

  Damp earth sinks beneath me

  I fall into lush moss

  and vibrant greens

  alive with rain

  I see myself here

  reflected back

  by tree roots

  and budding leaves

  There is family here

  in heavy water drops

  and curious bird eyes

  

  2026.04.02

• is that word alive

  AI trained on human souls

  yet their words taste like

  pink plastic left

  in the sun too long

  I’d like to think I can tell

  when words don’t have a body

  like scraping the knee

  on the playground asphalt

  or bumping the funny bone

  or drinking water underneath

  scorching sun

  

  2026.03.27