A Poetic Reflection on Pornography
The bedroom shrine and the bathroom liturgy…
The bedroom shrine and the bathroom liturgy…
Because I’ve learned that people come and go—or maybe I’m the one who’s leaving….
You said your romantic fire is being doused by the liquid of distance. I think the liquid of distance can be flammable…
I still love you passionately. Why don’t we leave for a trip to Paris tomorrow and not just Paris, but everywhere.
Look! How the blood runs down the legs of the Divine and drips from his toes.
I prefer a theology that pulls your hair behind your ears when you’re drunk (again) because it loves you as you are, not as you should be.
I found myself resisting the truth he was speaking with the same furor as I resist putting my hand in a flame.
Your body was in my arms but you were not.
Am I the only one
who feels distant from God
more often than near?
Try this step.
Works every time.








