Fox Hyde

Woodland otter of dreams and play

~ admin

12.16.20

FOX.HYDE
I’m a breath that keeps repeating itself
and I’m okay with that

that’s the tannin in your wine
same polyphenols binding to your proteins
staining your teeth
more proof of white smiles hiding the night before

must be the moonlight who plays tug-o-war with the tides of our animal
capricious, revealing, or playful
your choice
unzipping the human from the palms to feel what voice feels like
same way bare-feet are can be iris and retina
dirt tans a cooling coat
callouses passions’ bicep

~ admin

FOX.HYDE

12.13.20
the right choice will never taste bitter
so we shake off debris from our jackets
knowing it’s not new love we’re afraid up
more picking the scars of old wounds

maybe we’re too old too old to wish on shooting stars
but we’re just old enough to fight for the things we care about
doing it in a way
that makes the space we see with our eyes
join the air in our lungs
extending the hand of compassion
forget tolerance

tolerance implies some disgruntled patience
when I sigh
I want the root of our causes to sip in every drop of nuanced complexity we’ve tangled in our hearts

we all have demons making eyes in the mirror
and we live in a word
designed for monsters under the bed

every word ever spoken is made of the same breath I breath
so breath
breath, love, keep looking forward
look madness in the face
let it know
it too has a place in purgatory

~ admin

FOX.HYDE

12.3.20
I learned, after some bruises, a broken nose, and some pride injuries; to stop picking fights.

Later, I kicked, slapped, whipped, lashed, burned, and yes, punched for my way onto a meal.

Around the same time, I learned how to protect my body from these same generous ATM-like punching bags.

This is all to say. I carry my lessons in my marrow. So yes. I will remain civil.

But don’t be fooled.

Nature has made up her mind that what cannot defend itself shall not be defended. We both know who’s side nature is on here.

~ admin

FOX-HYDE

11.2.20
what if i told you this texture of “composed”, is held together from the blood in our gums?
we’re all holding our lungs today, i can’t tell if i’m scared out breath will come screaming or clock-tickin. So we smoke them in, all in. make them shallower, more spaced apart adding less seconds to the anxious abacus.

of course we have to breath.
we’re fucking human — we find excuses to pant and gasp each breath with strained muscles and blood movement.
me? i’m dancing, feet moving for the touch we’ve missed, synchronizations lost, culture set on shelf collecting dust for “soon”, “someday”, “maybe 2021”. I’m bearing my teeth at the whitest white i can see in you, the college degree, extracurricular activities, sports matches, privatization, opportunity, law school.
when i move; i pin down scholarships ripped from my fingers, jobs i can’t apply for, identities built from nicknames i never wanted, chemicals on brown skin bleaching their blood dead. i pin down guilt and cigarette butts accidentally flying out the car window. cow fiber in my molars, 2,240,000 acres in the amazon gone. i pin down the breath i take for granted, the one absent from 50.6 million people worldwide. i pin down the fear of whatever you see in me. don’t look to close.

~ admin

FOX-HYDE

10.29.20
i wonder if everyone else feels the pulls
magnetism moving feet this way and that
so used to the undercurrent of what comes next
half the time i can’t tell whats choice

its subtle that way
plucks words from cavity spaces
the one that refills oils last minute, asks the right questions, makes just enough eye contact

before any choice is made
hands are searching hip creases
and we’re making playlists
with the parts of us neglected by choice

~ admin

FOX HYDE

10.23.20
see now, little fox?
see what happened?
you opened pandora’s box;
set the wick on fire
summoned the succubus

and after truths, fire, nightmares;
tealights refused to become bombs, nightmares were simple dreams,
and the truth was nothing more
than just that

unbristle that silly hide of yours
they were just shadows

~ admin

10.19.20

FOX HYDE
Orchestra Majora, tickle strings of crescendo
because the nexus is frightfully silent.

Fine, I’m a Cannibal. Deviant, eccentric, non-conformist, misfit of a rouge. But for all the crimes I’ve committed, there’s not a judge out there Good enough to sentence me.

Until then,
let otters be foxes.