When the spirits talk, they’ll call trusting the beginning of innocence, that is to say, all that is good in the world, all that the world has called good. Beyond the prime abandonment of wanted desires, they’ll call you out of chasing your own shadows, out of stupidity, out of wanting to be wanted.
out in the middle of sidewalk stands a two year down to his white diaper, he garbles words for spirits, he knows mama’s milk is not coming. he knows the sirens. he knows the beauty of the cold – hard cement between his feet. he plays with peekaboo in the wind, he goes inside the tiny door,
combusting watching. It takes everything in me not to pick him up, not to go next door and give him all the good I’ve ever known. kindness sis. Krissy