please don’t bring me cut flowers,
walk with me in the garden for days.
i would feel more whole,
less heartbroken,

in witness of
the flower
rooted.

courting her dizzy bee suitors,
dropping her petals
by her own choice,
at her own time.

there, a glorious gift!

talking
across these miles
my friend,
i notice how empty
the room is,
lacking so many parts of you.

i want to reach through
and connect
my friend,
but i trip on the wires
and slip under the waves,
losing hold of you.

what i really want
in the end
my friend,
is to hang up,
get back to where i began,
missing the whole of you.

i’m a seeker
not a speaker.
my words fail,
i try again.
is it vision then,
or madness,
to keep dancing in these flames?

In your art
and grace
a light bursts open,
surrounding you.
I'm drawn in,
infatuated.
My wings caress,
envelop you,
catch fire.

For a moment,
we become it.

In the aftermath,
i realize
i chase this light everywhere.

It floats off again,
a flaming tumbleweed
hitching a ride with the wind.
i see you naked as i am
and bend to kiss your feet.
We look at one another as soft faced strangers
and part.

Have I kissed you enough?
You are new every minute,
I don’t want to miss it,
this version, this moment.
Let me inhale and then,
let me kiss you again.

We don't resent the bird who flies into the window
then falls to the ground,
dying.

We grieve.

Why then are we angry at ourselves and each other,
flailing in this funhouse mirror maze,
colliding.

Deceived.

A boulder is dropped in front of me,
light as a feather,
but I can't find in myself enough strength to blow.

The confusion grows,
and so does the pile of birds
on the ground below.

I feel like I keep getting
shoved back into this
hole.

Life the whack.

I the mole.