Words Of A Cloud

A book of poetry, amongst other things.

"of these things I am grateful:

these hands of mine, that fold into stars at night
to take and burn and illuminate
these books that turn into secrets at four a.m.,
and when I press my fingers close
I can feel my steady beat-
I know hands are made
for making too.

the ghosts in the back of my closet,
whose weeping faces I have kissed again, and
again,
but despair leans on these walls and I know
there is comfort in hiding
and there is weight in my feet, my thoughts, my words:
I am better for it."