Cleveland winters destroy me: sleet slushes, salt oxidizes, the sun sets at 5pm.
I noticed salt on my favorite pair of boots. I spent a therapeutic night cleaning, conditioning, and shining every pair I own.
Boots, like musicians’ instruments, are an extension of the owner. When the object is separated from the person, you can still see their soul and form.
Winter effaces all remaining hope of seeing god’s daylight.
Remember to take care of your soul, love. Start by cleaning your boots!
a good boot
my clean boots
are set in a row.
i like to look at them
as the one true proof
that i existed.
they show me
how i’d like to be –
the laces twine
thick leather binds –
never weak or weary.
a good boot is
so supportive
that it practically
walks through hell
by its own volition!
how fine to see
them in a line
and to reflect
on the measureless
distance wandered
