O, to live in the absence of time
when days are not days, but moments
always begun, never at end
unplanned, uncharted
and remembered

when I die
I do not ask that you surround my body with clay soldiers in the depths of the dirt
I ask only for you to lay me down in the grass
and construct over me a monument of your words

I ask for you to speak of me as I was unable to speak of you
for I can not articulate your presence past the word love
see, my vocal cords cannot adequately express the way I feel about you
the best I can do is replace the ink of my pen with the blood of my heart
and splatter it upon the page

you know, its times when you’re there, and i’m here
that my mind fills with your thoughts
that my elbow refuses to bend because it misses your shoulder
that I pick a flower, press it to my nose, but still smell only you

its those times, when this page, is all I have of you
so instead of folding it into a paper boat and sending it down the river
I write words upon it
I write how much I miss you — and then I send it down the river

for I know that the mouth of the river is your favorite place
that you love to catch things just before they reach the open ocean
just as you caught me, before I sailed off without direction

you stopped me, you handed me a compass,
and then you climbed right onboard yourself
and we faced the open ocean together

so when I die
I ask that you speak of our journey
speak of what we learned about love’s tendency to forget the cardinal directions
so that the compass of my soul points neither here nor there
it points solely and unwaveringly to you

you turn away*
the way the earth turns so the sun can't fix it's heated stare
my look merely rolls off, unabsorbed
why do you rotate?
my gaze is not meant to dry your oceans
or burn your forests
I simply wish to light your mornings
illuminate your mountains
and warm your valleys

your eyes search me
looking for scars
that might tell where I’ve been
my body is clean

your words search me
inquiring about my past
and waiting expectantly
my response is brief

your lips search me
feeling for impressions
left by former lovers
I’ve been smoothed over

so I write this poem
to urge you to keep searching
for you are close
and will find me soon

your lips touch mine, a simple revelation
that begins a revolution
walls crumble
guards stumble
as you fumble for the key
you open me and see
that I am no longer who I used to be

you found the door
that leads straight to my core
and because of you I can love like never before

so now that I’ve moved on from all that has been
I plead to you, baby, kiss me again

you are birdsong
you are moonlight
you are white snow
you are rippling cornstalks
you are rolling hills
you are the sun setting behind the mountains
you are morning air, and dew
you are a ripple in a quiet lake
you are refracted light in a flowing stream
you are a bed of lilacs warmed by the sun

you are beauty
beauty is you

Insects Slowly Climbed From Their Winter Sheets,
Making Their Bed With Hardly Any Care,
For The Snow Would Melt Away Any Day Now,
They Could Smell It In The Damp Spring Air

The Newborn Tulips Made The Morning Air Ripe,
In Which Sleepy Spiders Spun Their Silken Strings,
The Winter Fingers Which Gripped The River's Surface,
Slowly Released As Birds Stretched Their Thawing Wings

Music Returned To The No Longer Frigid Night Air,
Stars Swam In The Rejuvenating Eastern Sky,
As Nocturnal Critters Took To The Evenings Again,
With Their Reawakened Bodies Sleek And Sly