Within our lenses, and without a dime,
I watched you walk across the room as if it were a lake.
Too much mashed potatoes hung in my belly,
and rain water chimes rung in my ears—
there’s always some music now,
playing on like atoms in the air. Never the same, and only
remembering them as moments, forgetting each time
what had come before it was now.
All of it just touched out and into the open through my fingers,
leaving me like sound waves from a sad, stormy drum.
I watch you always,
even beyond the white, wooded doors.
I want you always. If only I know, I know this.


I feel you everywhere.
We travel as far as an endless leap,
as far and as dark as the ocean deep.
Forever we search,
and for always we find.
With the love and the light,
and I with you, and you with mine.


The door cracks softly and you show me your smile.
A new song starts. We melt into the mattress and you say things
through the motion of your lips, I hang from the cliff of your every hush.
Unspoken sensations suddenly spring into life.
We have always found each other
in this sacred soil,
where I offer you my soul without secretes.


Naked in your nameless beauty
my love resides.

And I feel you everywhere.

Burning sunlit life as sparked circles and smiles,

a carnival of the dead and the living,

dancing together in these searing winds.

Crackling like distance drum beats and waving like long-lost flags.

Radiant colors glowing iridescent,

just beyond the ledge of my window.

Summer breathes its hot air on the back of my neck,

exploding my skin with sweat

in a pool of exhilaration.

Such things remain purposeful,

and all the while,


I breathed you in, ocean air apart,

The branches of my chest, suppressed,

Over skin grazed land I found you.


And swallowing, a salt kiss,

Suspended in a pool of infinity, indefinitely,

Lamp covered light fields led me through.


The resonating rain drops, the chin raised looks,

The body of my heart, howling heavily,

Like a nomadic wolf, I search for you.


You’ve buried me below your dreams,

like a sleeper strangling in the sheets.

You’ve buried me below your dreams,

beseeching for a breath beneath this frozen, frigid lake.

My beckoning to you is silent now,

with movements quite uneven.

But this surface is smooth,

this covering above me,


I wear it as if it were my own skin;

unshakable, and permanently stitched.

A part of my purpose, or perhaps,

my entirety for eternity.

All the more sad it seems.


You’ve buried me below your dreams

my dear,


death will come to us all.

You’ve buried me below your dreams,

and the Summer of our lives

is quietly fading to the onset of Fall.


And where are you, above this earth?

Where do you roam to with such dogmatic determination?

Where do I reside inside you?

In between hope and frustration?


I wish to hold you near, as, like the leaves,

we crumble and dry.

I wish to love you softly and slowly, together,

today and always,

as we die.

The music here has created a movement,

and beauty is bleeding from within.

Everything is esoteric,

seeds budding and stemming from a glance, from the simplicity of a soft, gentle touch,

from my heart and to and through you.

All of this, of course,

has always been,

and always will be.

Harmony has passion,


fear flies with just as much grace as that of

a diving dove.


Now and again, illusions form–

blankets of snow are tricks from the midnight moonlight,

whispers beyond the hallway are shakes from a cold chill,

and painful thoughts are only fragments from feelings of the past.

We have buried ourselves,

all of us.

In so many shapes,

in so many ways,

in so many places.




But now, the air is aberrant

and these vessels;

these veins and vines,

these eyes and ears,

see and feel and hear

the heart of the matter–

the only matter that has ever mattered.


And so we travel on,

picking up the pieces,

trying to live our lives like circles.

Perfect in our own rotations.

All to touch again,




tender to shine together

we all are,

as long as we breathe



our skin.

As long as we share




Sharing Eyes

Daisies are dying in the salty sun,

photograph smiles, postcard kisses, and kind eyes cover the canvas of our story.

These are the things we have

as we hold each other in

endless arrangements of our hearts,

bouquets of love,

all wrapped in playful colors and

gentle, harmonious music.

And everything is shared with a sweetness,

like softly knitted details

that stitch the story of our love.

And we share,

and share,

and share.


There is so much I want to give to you–

everything is





our love.



Hunkered down in the hotels of headaches and heartbreak,

rooms are for rent with discounted rates,

and all you need show is your eyes.

The ever revealing signs of sadness.

Desperation festers with fear to all those afraid of silence,

heavy to have someone to hold,

needing that intangible to create confusion.

These hallways have been familiar havens, faces covered in cloaks and windows choking out everything,

leaving only this


with dim-lit candles.


And like a feather falling slowly,

draping the grass and rising again with the wind,

playing perfectly the art of patience,

you have come here

and checked in.


And everyone looks at you auspiciously,

like you’ve done something wrong–

but the looks really stem from the fact that you


What are you doing here?

Is the question they’re asking,

and the only one they don’t want answered.

For if answers found their way


and to them,

the abundance of unnecessary needs would cease to exist

and meaninglessness would magnify like moonlight on a midnight lake.


All these rooms, these battered and bruised souls,

have to wait until they’re ready.

They could wait a lifetime–

some do.


I’ve waited,

and it was worth

anything and everything

to have



and know I’m ready to love you.


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