Journal of 10/28/2019

I know why ghosts howl.

It starts low in the bones,

Resonant until it climbs up

And involuntarily chases

The air

I know what it’s like to cry until 

Sand pours out my glands.


I know (now?) why ghosts howl

Howl How ow ow ow

O gods will my soul ever be whole again?



After sorrow comes questions

When did I see him last?

Could I have done something different?

He knew I loved him, right?

Loved him like breathing. 

Loved his hearty laugh. Laughing until his 

muscles seized and he could only

bray out the rest of his mirth.

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