Leaving maybe for a possible while

Leaving Chicago
Maybe
For a
Possible while

Leaving home
Leaving friends
Letting go of sunsets and stone
And excellent purpose

Saying
See you soon
Thinking
Love you always
Crying
Because I can't not

And will never
Ever
Ever
Let you leave me

Even if only
Maybe
For a
Possible while

Photo by Sadie.  Words by Dustin.

watching yo clock (baby be comin)

watchin yo clock, gurl

you gon pop - holla fa me'

we gon have a pretty

Photo by Sadie.  Haiku by Dustin.

self portrait from the past

sweet solid eyes of glass

Photo by Sadie.  Words by Dustin.

Green Beauty Found

pitter patter golden afternoon
of dancing and smiling
and watching her move through the living room
how lucky i am
and will continue to be

from the small town where i found her to the city she explores
i am smitten

i believe in rainy days and loud music parties and trains late at night
i believe in my control
and my truth
my regret
and my enlightened hangovers
i believe in my life

and

i believe in
her

Photo by Sadie.  Words by Dustin.

I'd take them bowling

 

If I had a dollar and time this time
I'd say hello to those thirsty thrifty hungry spunky needy few
The overlooked
I'd take them bowling
I'd buy them ice cream
I would go sailing and poor them champagne
I'd say this is life as i know it
This is the fun stuff
This is the stuff that us privileged experience
And so quickly forget

We are sorry
Thank you for understanding

Words by Dustin.  Photo by Sadie.

when she spluhs

 what does she think
i wonder
    when she rolls

when she smiles
when she spluhs

she glows
in the light of those who love her 

she moves
out of curiosity

she laughs
because she just sat next to God on her flight into this world and they had a great talk about airline peanuts.  "They are soooo salty," she remembers Him saying.  "But delicious," they agreed as they munched away. 

but
what does she think
 i wonder
    when she rolls


when she smiles
when she spluhs

what does she think

i like to believe that she finds life more beautiful then she expected
that's what she deserves

she
being more beautiful than could have ever been expected

Photo by Sadie.  Words by Dustin.

you seduced me on the staircase

You seduced me on the staircase
as I sucked sweet citrus in the early evening light of midwinter
the juicy tang no match to your tongue on mine

I tasted sugary cookie crumbs in the cracks of your lips, chapped
your breath hot and laced with cocoa
you offered me some, but my belly steamed already

Wool socks scratched against bare skin
rug burns on my back, bruises, little gnawings, clawings
be-carefullings of the uneaten orange beside us, soon forgotten

We slept soundly that night, awoke to fresh snow
sunlight creeping up the stairs, where the ripe orange still glowed
the whole house smelled of it, and of love
and of smoldered ash upon the hearth

Photo by Sadie Whitehead.  Words by Teneisha A. Kessler-Emanuel

one of each

One of each.
And a pinch of me. That's all it takes
to scoop and seethe.
The tile is cold and creeps up the goose bumps
from my toes.
And I shake.
One hand over my opposite arm.
Warming with a breath and a shiver and shake of my head.
I'm toe stepping on my dance partner
or slow dancing with my father in the living room to old records.
I'm clumsy
trying to avoid the ice floor.
Goddamn, socks would be nice.
It's a simple craving and a goofy dance.
I stand, without shirt, in the white tile.
It feels like home in here.
A very cold home.

I wish sunshine were in each of these jars.
This morning could be the soft white light,
that kind that settles like ash over my head,
setting my eyes to lazy, I casually lean on a newspaper,
and slowly walk to calm.
Other ones can contain summer hot sun searing through curtains
and swelling sweat down each temple. And if another person is there,
when this jar is opened, you'll sweat on each other and mat hair to the forehead
when your lips talk on top of one another.
And sure, to the right, or in the back of the group,
is that cloud driven swirl of downtrodden.
But the kind of light that fits the mood.
A gray that validates your sad, not creates it.

One of each.
I don't feel like choosing because I could fit my heart into all 3 moods.
So, I let God pick and just hope there is a choice in the group that makes this
floor a little warmer because I don't feel like putting the weight of a shirt on.
I'd rather suffer the chill and wait for the sky to change.

Photo by Sadie Whitehead.  Words by Jordan Lane Shappell.

Seeing In

I know you're pretending.
You can not see me.

You roam the sundial.
A midnight monster
beneath the bed,
creeping from the closet,
looking to devour the innocent.

Your stagnant stares
of voided vision
could torture my
fragile rainbow world.

Your empty heart
may shatter  mine,
if you stare too long.

But I can see you.

The split of focus
in your veiled eyes
spins a story of
blinded bondage
to all you ever found beautiful.

The buds of your starving tongue
taste for nourishment and flavor in nothingness.
An attempt to devour your tortured soul's food.

I can see through you.

You followed a path of direct roads
that led you
to nowhere -

Yet you are still on the map of time.
There is a chance.

I wandered aimlessly
with unknowing navigation
that led me
to now-

Yet I followed the charts of direction.
There is purpose.

And I can see between you.
Bent.

Your broken vision
is the fix I crave.
My crystal ball of balance and band aids-
a medicine of  my need-
an elixir of humanity.

I will bring you back to the beautiful.

You will see me.
I can see underneath you.

Photo by Sadie Whitehead.  Words by Sarah Spatz.

okayama

now we know to peer, embrace
and love for time our
memory's grace.

took spot, small and clear
said "look, our view is here."

for what we see is not for them
its for us and you and me and than

we thank words thick in canopy's design
a leafy toll, an elemental fine.

through trees and brush
paint corners strong

capture buildings new and time foregone.

in gold rush desire,
our images for hire,

sell this see those take yours
this prose

for as a window arches higher
so foreign skies
lick flame's rich fire

history here in present tense
keeps tidy that watery fence. 

a mote to pool ideas peering
stopping staring, kneeling, sharing

captured curve's crescent half
buildings word this
but focus; word that

Photo by Sadie Whitehead.  Words by Jamie Kennedy.

that space

i cherish that space 

between what I remember 

what i now live

and what i want

it's distant 

but feels close 

like a zoom lens

intimate 

it hovers

watches me 

takes care of me

holds me

that space

it is vast 

it speaks to me as i walk

as i wander

as i dream

it holds my hand

lights my path 

consumes my heart 

fights for me

as i look out 

into the paths of my future

i see only answers

only hope and possibility

only space

 

Photo by Sadie in Paris.  Words by Dustin is Singapore.

this train

full of people, this train

and bound for glory, this train

arms crossed phone out - wee

Photo by Sadie.  Haiku by Dustin.

what little grows here

What little grows here now needs a lot of care.

There used to live a thick tree, with chipped and stoney bark,
roots the size of a man's leg, entrenched down and coursing through the warm grip of earth.
The world and the tree would hold each other.
They used to breath and sway with the wind.
The tree was strong, the earth was loyal.
But the tree's biggest flaw was that it clung to too much,
tried to grasp too deep.
So when the storm came, when the sky opened, the weathered world couldn't handle it.
The beautiful earth found the grip of the tree too much.
It had to let go.
And that tree fell, splintered and the trunk broke like a heart.

So what's left are the tiny seeds of that tree
and an earth not quite ready.
Despite the soil's stern feel, the tree still lives through tiny sprouts.
And still finds the earth.
And still reaches out it's roots like hands,
hoping to find the grasp back.
Hoping the dirt will interlace it's fingers
and the two will find their home again.
It'll just be different.

Photo by Sadie Whitehead.  Words by Jordan Lane Shappell.

today they grow for Edie Pearl

the purples and pinks

all the colors daddy mixes 

vegetables in the garden

coffee that's too hot

shower water never truly warm enough

the birds and the saturday mornings and the music we sing

the dog that eats, the cat, the baby boy

today they grow for her

there was a flash of light and out she came 

and all the photographs and conversations and dance moves and grass stains to come 

will hold her in our hearts

her story is her own, but for a while we hold the frame

we decorate her space and paint her body with gentle touch 

and 

love her with our everything 

raise your glasses

our angel is here 

Photo by Sadie.  Words by Dustin.

This was the place

This was was the place, before the weeds had grown, before the wood was warped. Where you climbed on the top plank and said this was the best moment of your life. 

And I wondered if it was, and I wonder if it is, still. And I ask myself, if there are remanents of that feeling that permeate the bench which held you at the peak of your life.

Photo by Sadie Whitehead.  Words by Stella Hartmann.

It rains every day here.

It rains every day here.  Today: the first drop fell and no others came.  I wanted to understand.  I could not allow for celebration.  I was alone without the falling swamp.  I was alone without the wolflike wind.  I was alone as I often am.  I see friends.  I see love.  I see children and dancing and Thursday night picture shows.  But I am mostly alone.  How does that make me?  Find me?  How does that breathe?  

I see a tree standing alone because you held my hand in yours and pointed.

Maybe that's what we can do for each other.  

Photo by Sadie.  Words by Dustin.

Ahead

I'm not often ready for what lies ahead,
but I rely on a certain endurance factor that has gotten me through most of life.
Its a small feeling creeping between my lungs,

a deep breath

that takes in all the darkness of my current situation
then breathe out,
not strength,
but acceptance.
The pain becomes regular,
another part of my skin.
I'll feel it hourly and choke back the start of the start of tears.
I breath out understanding.
I focus for a few moments when things are bad
and don't let my head take over.
Rarely, do I find myself ready for the shortcomings, the disappointments.
but I'm responsible for all the life lessons that I've been taught.
Im the cause and the teacher and the endurer.

Hardship lies ahead for all of us.
At all times.
Im sorry, but it's a part of this world.
Find peace and be overwhelmed.
And look ahead.

Photo by Sadie Whitehead.  Words by Jordan Lane Shappell.

chute

i've seen it once before 

in a dream i think 

were you there 

i said.  were you there

they ask me to find words and make visual

to hold tension 

they ask me to say yes 

i keep no calender and i certainly hold no ground 

and where i end will be a page filled with names of places and people and laughs and love

chute

Photo by Sadie.  Words by Dustin.

... mumbled the intoxicated seamstress to her four year old son at four in the morning

"Which roll was it, I said!

... Don't make me say it again.

Oh. uhsleepin... Wakup!"

Photo by Sadie.  Haiku by Dustin.

Green Light Refraction

Huuwaaaaaaahhpoooga.  uh

Working toward the enjoyment of our notoriously nuanced kitchen

Im so lucky it Loves me loving it greening to preening

I meeeeeeeeaaaaaan, why me

Dishes disperse the doers, but ounce the drip is a clean one, that accomplishment, the done -Dom is weightless encouragement for the quitters to come and have fun

Haha

Work is encouraging? Not for some

Dishes, however whoever whenever, fever an absent ADD need to forgo

To go throw
          To blow it
                   To ...no

But I'm already done, did my bitching make it go by faster, can't be!

Haaaaaaammma oo there's the green and a little light, the kitchen is bright, and above all I try

Photo by Sadie Whitehead.  Words by William Gillespie.