It is summer and all my friends are dying.
Tag: grief
twenty-two
Because in the dim parking lot
one man’s sobriety was a flower for his truths;
because Max’s hair in the rain.
Terminal 3
I daydream a lot about floating in the air. A slow, sort of dead man’s float across the sky. This doesn’t make much sense to me because I don’t like planes. Or swimming. I prefer concrete over carpet. Analysis over meditation. So, the floating in the air thing—well that is a little crazy. A contradiction to my nature that feels oddly good.
Distance
107 miles. Sometimes I walk further downtown and the distance increases, sometimes I walk uptown and the distance shrinks. But, that’s only a measurement. It doesn’t matter where I am, there is always a distance between us. Even when I visit you.
Interview with Christopher X. Shade
Shade talks with poetry editor Max Hamilton about confronting grief through meditation and writing.