Feet ross gay

He has grown up without me in a shadow world that exists within this world: invisible but close by. The fact that he never existed makes him no less real to me. The way the universe sat waiting to become, quietly, in the nether of space and time. If you come to be— And who knows?

Would you curse me my careless caressing you into this world or would you rise up. I have so many questions for you, for you are closer to me than anyone. For now let me tell you about the bush called honeysuckle. Sweetness would be your name, and you would wonder why four of your teeth are so sharp, and the tiny mountain range.

And you would throw back your head and open your mouth at the cows lowing their human songs. For more information on Ross Gay, please click here. Like Like.

Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude

Search for:. Facebook Instagram Words by Winter, my podcast. Poem to My Child, If Ever You Shall Beby Ross Gay —after Steve Scafidi The way the universe sat waiting to become, quietly, in the nether of space and time, you too remain some cellular snuggle dangling between my legs, curled in the warm swim of my mostly quietest self.

Would you curse me my careless caressing you into this world or would you rise up and, mustering all your strength into that tiny throat which one day, no doubt, would grow big and strong, foot and scream and scream until you break the back of one injustice, or at least get to your knees to kiss back to life some roadkill?

For now let me tell you about the bush called honeysuckle that the sad call a weed, and how you could push your little sun-licked face into the throngs and breathe and breathe. Sweetness would be your name, and you would wonder why four of your teeth are so sharp, and the tiny mountain range of your knuckles so hard.

And you would throw back your head and open your mouth at the cows lowing their human gay in the field, and the pigs swimming in shit and clover, and everything on this earth, little dreamer, little dreamer of the new world, holy, every rain drop and sand grain and blade of grass worthy of gasp and joy and love, tiny shaman, tiny blood thrust, tiny trillion cells trilling and trilling, little dreamer, little hard hat, little heartbeat, little best of me.

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