Red blood remembers on the gallows steps, near the firing squads, across battlefields, and along shackled walls. Blood watches through portals of hell on earth for pieces of heaven as they pass us by. Poets bleed at a baby's first breath, as a dream concludes, when a hero stands or a thoroughbred falls.
As the poet's blood rises, sugar and phosphate coil to hold the glue and support the pairings that birth the stories. Blood and reason in every recounting of tragedy and deliverance, from the poet's page to the prophet's ear. Blood and helix bind poets and visions like the ancient connection between nebulae and newly born stars.
There is a resonance through blood and bone, an invisible tether from the first cry to the final whisper. One language as it is spoken in dreams and released to the awakening mind. Poem.
Lovely. Definitely, definitely, they're all, you know, connecting with each other. By the way, people, we've also got Sam's picture up there that she had shared.
Just wanted to make sure. And I was listening to you and you were talking about the time when you said that. And her picture talks about time.
And she's got this mother-to-be ink work. And I was like, hmm, it's interesting that I just heard the word time and she had time and somehow I got stuck with that word. But lovely.
Mariah, thank you so much. I see Chewy's on board also. Let me say hello to Chewy.
Happy Sunday, Chewy. Yeah, thanks. Happy Sunday to you too.
How are you doing today? How's your rodeo artwork going? It's going well. Wait, have you seen that I did something different? No, we were talking about it. And I had suggested the crane wasn't really rodeo and you had come up with, you were going to do something new.
Then you said you wanted to do a horse. I said do a longhorn. And then we stopped.
