Cave
Cold closes its jaws on sunlight, thin remains of air. That brutal beauty of headstrong hope. -Katherine Gotthardt
Cold closes its jaws on sunlight, thin remains of air. That brutal beauty of headstrong hope. -Katherine Gotthardt
Nighttime cherry tree, impending windstorm. Pang of letting go. -Katherine Gotthardt Painting by Andrew Gotthardt
Bearing the burden of all the right things, honesty’s fragile fingers. -Katherine Gotthardt Photo by Benjamin Ranger on Unsplash
Age grow in at the edges, each experience white, baby-fine. Try not to judge these wispy years while we become
Bedside, I hold your plump hand, cold, white thread of foam sewing your lips shut, as if you disapprove of
for my mother-in-law on the morning of her passing These leaves, white with winter, and those frozen, spiky cones, then,
My paltry decades of living and I cannot understand how mountains bear their memories. -Katherine Gotthardt
And there, amidst the mange, a tranquil tuft of growth, baby-haired, white. The whole world hummed, as if it, too,
In latter days, the solar- scorched world proved heavy- handed, callous palms swiping back. Retribution. -Katherine Gotthardt
History of the World Read More »
That garden you decided to plant? How it took time to turn over the soil, get past the sweat, that
It is Wednesday, and I put my work on pause. I find my old art bag, carry watercolor pencils to
By Katherine Gotthardt Somewhere in the midst of life’s lessons, I’m forgetting how to speak. I think it might be
By Katherine Gotthardt The turtle has been crushed by a mower, life leaving through cracks in its shattered shell, coagulated,
By Katherine Gotthardt Somewhere, there’s what I should be doing, somewhere between the smudged edges of you and me, between
I tell you trust isn’t something I lend like a new book you know damn well will never be returned.
In withering arms of darkness,
dew trying to pass for rainwater,
beaten terrain attempts to rise,
Prayer of the Fields Read More »