Soft flakes of dust
sail in your narrow shaft of light,
our breath
determining
their final resting place.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 3:01 PM UTC
What is an idea if not to be realized?
I am the cave and you are beyond reach.
Without light there are no
shadows (except you.)
We are the footsteps
echoing God’s hollow chorus.
No two electrons in the universe
are in the same energy level
He said
(Even though I can taste the salt
in your tears like a sea
between the shores of our souls)
I think you are the rain
and I am the lake. (You are soft
and the sky is hesitant to let you go)
Or maybe you are the light,
and I am the space
around those slits in time.
As every baby draws its first breath,
our chaos expands and I see your victory
in the creaking of the trees and the
cancer in your love. “Look on my works,
ye mighty, and despair!”
It is energetically favourable
for two distant atoms to move
closer together (but not too close together).
You are inside me (a part from me)
but too close to touch.
I am everywhere
but we are nowhere without each other.
A shape with no substance,
you tear green ribbons into my sky
to tempt me with the heavens
beyond.
But no knife is sharp enough
to cut open our seams;
our electrons take
each breath together.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 11:38 AM UTC
Jasmine, I am
the scent of your
unfulfilled dreams.
You peek through
a quiet curtain.
presence,
formless truth.
Empty roads
crossroads
you fill me in, heavy
heady substance.
Colour me in
with your weight,
and all four dimensions
collapse into one
point in space.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
What is love? You ask me as
the first breath of frost whispers
goodbye on your lips.
I feel quite strongly that life’s
immensity hangs in the summer
breeze; particles of dust that glimmer
in the sun behind your heels.
They say that our atoms are spread thin
like a crisp sheet that catches the wind
and settles fragrantly
/
deep inside my mind
But the universe is in your eyes
as dense as a black hole
and as light as the sky;
fields of wheat stirring in the
evening sun
as I taste life everywhere
soaking into my bones.
Your innocent breath,
unfolding itself
gently
.
wholly
melting light
into my cold skin.
time is
folding spherically
O
folding infinitely/boundless
or
floating selflessly
through empty space
together
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
Sometimes I think about
the structure of atoms
and how difficult it can be
to tell the difference between me
and the cantaloupe I just ate
and where I end
and the sunlight begins.
And I wonder
if maybe when you kiss me
you leave behind pieces of yourself
on my tongue
and that’s why I remember
exactly how you taste
no matter how long it’s been.
Sometimes I think about
quantum entanglement
and how two different particles
can be inextricably and inexplicably
tied to each other
no matter their physical distance.
And I wonder
if maybe a tiny piece of your left iris
is entangled with an atom
in the muscle of my cheek
and that’s why
I can’t help but smile
when you look at me.
Sometimes I think about
our understanding of DNA
and how so much of it we call “junk”
because we don’t know what it does.
And I wonder
if maybe years from now
they’ll be able to read my base pairs
like a novel
and some scientist
will be able to look at them and say
“This,
just here,
this is how we know
the subject fell in love.”
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
like water
I take the shape
of the space between
those things that
can’t be said.
If I stay still
completely
unmoving
I am transparent
Maybe time won’t
find
me here. I will be everything
and nothing
like water
losing myself
in the folds of his mind
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
Sometimes, my skull fills with water
And I forget what we are
We are not.
We
Typewritten letters punch holes inside my mind
Beams of light sifting through sand.
Or rainshowers
impregnating truth
where there is none
My physical realisation
wants for nothing.
Nothing
in us carries the weight
of our waters
like the ebb and flow
of life’s tide.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
There is truth in
the fleeting beauty
of the shadows of trees.
Only your light swims
polynomial arcs, leaves
in the sea of air
exhaled by winter.
Glimpses only the weight
of your branches can unfold
and loves only the
paths of our soul have foretold.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
It is dark,
the universe between us.
In the absence of gravity
your light has scattered
to places I don’t know.
You are the moon. (An illusion of
light, maybe. Or a mirror)
Heavy,
a winter coat
shrugged off.
Is what I used to be
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC