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lifeinpoetry: I shatterwhat light has done to me: in my wildest dreamswhere the given body is a form of flight& in this latest version I step intothe wreckage, to find the other side ofme blooming toward you. — Michael Wasson, from “Self-portrait
lifeinpoetry: Save the boy who sees the bloodinside him. The forest. How it means: shadows learning to breathe again—the disgraced lighthere. It means all these branches are clotheslines where nothing hangs anymore. — Michael Wasson, from “Self-portrait
voltaiire: “…so why not disappear / just this once….” — Michael Wasson, from ‘These Swallowed Prayers as Creation Myth’, pub. The Rumpus (via soracities)
