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Tag Archives: Ian Powell-Palm
I am 19 again, And she is kneading my soul with her fingers. The color in this room is loud, the walls are closing in, Her cat is screeching in the corner and I am kissing her between her thighs. … Continue reading
Mother grinds me into existence with her mortar and pestle, the same way she used to grind paste from the flesh of her garden in order to heal my grandfather’s wounds. On the morning I was born, my mother … Continue reading
Allen, the war is over. And your aunt is speaking to my sister, in that great beyond. Perhaps even God is in attendance. Allen, does your universe feel wide enough within his arms? Does Lucien breathe truth into your ear, … Continue reading
Blood mixed in the soil, the Earth turns 80 degrees, a child fell into its mouth tonight. The father buried himself with a candle and a knife, a letter and a pen, gave his daughter instructions on where he would … Continue reading
Ian, don’t be afraid. Your body only breaks, so that it may further heal itself. It has never known another lover besides you. It has never wanted to. Ian, it’s okay. Your father will still be your father until … Continue reading
Haven’t you grown tired of these walls? Swimming in the river until the skin drips off of your back, The hours are endless when there is only love in the air. You found God inside a steel-toed bathtub, your … Continue reading
The day that she died, I made sure to set all the clocks back two hours. I don’t know what kind of person likes to know the exact time that their life ended, but I am not one of them. … Continue reading