Lee Jaszlics is a technical writer and photographer living in Portland, Oregon. They share their life with a cat, two pet spiders and a dissecting microscope.
I came to this place without sorrow,
Left the weight of years behind
And swam through a narrow place.
Slipped between stars
Red moss pulled close
Rich and Devonian.
Guileless; this place was my balm
There are no flowers here.
I vomited pain
Burned a hundred cattle for you, my emerald
I have nothing to give
There is an old recipe for new life:
Tear my flesh to pieces
Salt and smoke my intestines,
my thighs, and goggle-eyed nerve cord
Until I swim through light.