So redemption was possible; and the honor of firestorm and flash interactive creates the kind of happiness you could die from and not care. A dynasty of fire and misfire in the garden of this state — somewhere near east 12th street amid the pyrotechnics we take shelter in the open night, pulling hoods up and shielding eyes from the shell and rain of ash. Covering the mouth of the beer bottle while debris comes down like hail, while the neighborhood is thick with kids and families: we all came out in droves. A sizzle of light, a drum in belief and body like I set up port here to emblazon a path home. Maybe once I had fallen out of favor with myself. And the promise comes without words; the night is midnight-navy and gold. The joy of this life caves my heart.
Posted onJuly 5, 2013