Tomorrow as we will celebrate friendship and writing, we’ve been asked by our departing friend to pull lines from our writing. Here’s a few from two summers ago and this year:
Wine glasses are filled and the anchor that I’m tied to has unraveling rope
In the night I hear the weight of her on the bed. It’s her weight minus yours
I wonder how many hours of playtime I have left
Life fame dripping wet with sadness
I settle into the blue of everything
Black triangles turned on their points
The squawk of time
The big pink head coming into the world
A teenager that owned the world, that stood on the lesser mountains and roared, called for summer to come with each of her bones.
What’s more that perpetrates the depth and steals my illumination?
I could taste the dust on my tongue
Talking about how the sun has changed since 1955 and how now it’s yellow and it used to be orange
Beneath Jerome, there used to be more
Walk away from the footprints we left
He knew how it felt to dive bomb her head and for her hair to lift lightly from the rush of eind