They Can’t All be Gems, but Some of Them Are


the unexplored humanity in
all of us
is the ticket to our salvation


I mean, if you’re into
care of the Earth, the infinite
kindness within, moongazing,
that sort of thing.


a crow lands on a branch,
silently watching our
destruction of beauty.


I am tired of writing about
the you,
I want to write of the fiery red rose
blooming among medicinal hips,
I want to write of mussels and oysters
that rarely slip into my mouth, but
live on in the deep sea’s undulation
                (everything is a pearl)
                              (everything is a pearl)


I want to dissolve the boundary,
the distinction, the disconnect,
from me to you
(you see, I cannot stop with the you)
but, for now, I’ll settle on this– —


the crow has begun to caw,
his branch remains silent.
church bells ring in the distance.
the grey sky of morning cannot keep
the sunlight at bay,
light shines on the darkest feather.





About the Author

Emily Diane lives in urban, coastal Southern California and moonlights as a bartender.