high Sierra
way up in the icy air
find me there
snow topped range
that made me
ripped-red sky
I’ll be the cowboy
dirt in my scalp
this
dogged
ride
saddle thumping
between my
thighs
the sky ablaze
day
fighting to hold
night sucking
its final breath
dusk dropping
its velvet curtain
over mountains
over arrowheads
buried
in cool ground
squinting in smoke
a drunken stumble
of horses hooves
limping through
embers burning
hips
calves
collar bones
flames leaping
at ropes
that cannot hold
I burn
burn
burn
burn
and desert night
still smelling sweet
stars
one couldn’t conceive
in daylight
throb
in blackness
sprawled across
my horse’s back
I howl
cinders on my neck
I howl
bare chest
open mouth
a perfect O
I howl
fingers outstretched
pulling the dawn
I howl
I howl
I howl
About the Creator
Jen Parkhill “JP”
Jen Parkhill “JP”, a first generation Cuban-American artist, pet parent, writer, filmmaker, actor, friend, graduate of the Tisch School of the Arts, NYU, and proud member of the LGBTQIA+ community.
Hurling through time.
@jenparkhill
Keep reading
More stories from Jen Parkhill “JP” and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Ritual of Winter Challenge Winners
Welcome to the Winners Announcement for The Ritual of Winter challenge. This prompt focused on winter rituals and the meaning that settles into them over time. The top pieces stay grounded in ordinary acts and repeated routines, letting winter shape the work through pace, attention, and restraint.
By Vocal Curation Team3 days ago in Resources
Comments (2)
Visceral piece. I felt this one...
damn jp you write to be felt and it works