Philando. George. And Now
We all feel closer to Philando than we
otherwise would, and George, having
been present at such a pivotal moment
in the life of each, privy to the intimacy
of death.
If we are lucky, we are still permeable
by horror, our skins not so thick that
we easily forget or discount. We resume
our lives because we must, their names
pressing on us like wounds. We saw
injustice with our own eyes. We are
accountable for this terrible knowledge.
- excerpt of journaled poem from 7/6/2020
THE LATEST
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Getting close to complet-ion of my first EP of original songs (!)
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We are both working full-time from home
Where a Face Should Be
Flat canvases of masks let us fill in the
blanks, fiction never as strange as truth;
we humans want the full monty of expression.
Some went so far as to say since humans bear the image of God, it's a sin to cover our faces with masks. God knows where these theologians were last winter, protesting scarves and balaclavas.
Only a baby thinks a face gone for good when it is covered. We have learned to walk in the dark, in the
memory of smiles.
- excerpt of journaled poem 5/7/2020
