somewhere is a boy suffocating in the dirt (holier than the sky). some things are always true like his hands caked in mud, like skinned knees and my mother says listen, listen, somewhere in a city is a boy who is more sunflower hands than breath.
god looks to me when i dream. he asks me about my heart in the fields. my tears in a jar. the strand of hair caught in the drying paint.
“some things are always true. the fall-time misses the spring. a city is drowning in light.
somewhere i am more boy than myth but more myth than human. i guess what i’m trying to say is that there is a little bit of holiness in us all.
that is the truth- you made it so.”
