it's a front-flip
got away

align out thinking we felt like this
envying teeth
the way your bottom lip curls
I curve at your corners
climb inside
someone give me shoulders to walk with
legs to speak
I'm tasting you from behind my eyelids
cause my mouth knows better

It hurts like hell, but I'll just a take another trip, dip & dive into someone else's liquid mind. Find friends among the beaten flowers, in an abandoned window sill. Look forever among the common grounds, the commotion of motion beyond all life forms. **** me, & find peace within yourself. A life for a life.

With tool and wood the craftsman slave..
Patience within the soul he gave..
To ever last thru ages long..
So very light, but yet so strong..
At his bench both day and night..
With tool and chisel  he carve just right..
A neck to make, and turn the scroll..
The pegs to fit, he drill the hole..
Hard maple back, and spruce the top..
The sides he steam, and interlock..
A sound post fit and so the bridge..
To fit the contour of the ridge..
A piece of wood he put in place..
To give it depth and also bass..
A varnish stain of amber hue..
A reddish stain to blend in too..
Some Virtuoso maybe play, to give
someone a brighter day..
For music make the world go round..
A greater piece of art not found..
Four strings he add, and then to pitch..
To test the soul he gave so rich..
A balanced bow he now must make..
The hair from mane of horses take..
Then to his hand, he draw the bow..
Across the strings the music flow..
A symphony a quiet band..
A melody heard 'round the land..

We gather them,

These stolen moments,
These orphaned seconds,
These lost dark minutes.

Stateless, Unattached,
These refugee clicks
With no form or voice
Do not belong here.

We pile them up,

These off cuts of time,
These shards of passing,
This swarf of tempo.

Shreds of interval
And dislocation
With no named event
To give them title.

And with our small words we bind them,
A suture in the wounded day,
To make a tiny poem of the scars.

I was a child
grown by the sea
I accumulated car minutes
and spent time between places
distracted by no other faces
than my own

Shifted to a slower tempo
I grew in the foothills
I accumulated long moments
walking from my office, home
I let the morning light wake me
& I
let you take me

You'd rest your hand in the small of my back
and you'd pull me in
and tangle yourself in my hair
we'd stay up all night and we didn't care
but we always made it to the sunrise
because it made the city look more honest
and we didn't know we were laying, happily,
in a twin bed of lies.