in the wide opens,
desolate indoors of my room,
so many curled books alone,
far away, unarmed from me,
suffering, still, as i do apart,
in the shut in air, i can barely
breathe, with hollowed lips,
in my room, wide opens.

pretty pictures i shot,
shrivel on the plastered wall,
simple gifts I took of you
and the sun penetrates
only in muddied drops,
like desert rains tear
from the mercy skies
on to wastelands of dust.

in throws i bury myself,
with pillows of clean suture,
for the pierced heart wounds
bleeding, patched like warring tartans
indoors, i die in a meadow, bedded,
my faint breath scented with yours,
blankets blink a wild printed field,
specks all, unopened flowers.

At yon boundaries are shrubs,
Waiting like unlit chapel bulbs,

Under are flowers also plugged,
Within wet soil, grabbing waters,

Rains once pelted withal seeds,
Into the skies they both breathe,

Under earth, worms wriggle up,
Graduating in swirls to the sun,

On blankets of grass are daisies,
Wildly napping a dreamy breeze,

Thrushes in rushes joyfully sing,
Lilt of lullabies from skies begin,

Songbirds dropping windy hues,
The giddy butterflies justly knew,

What bees do bounces, busy for,
Such patchwork paradise galore.

Lids open like blooms,
Blush of lips on skins,
Light sparks as we feel
Each touch of impress
Out of dark, into a sol,

Morning on the shores,
With hands leafing new
We branch over water,
Palms unlatch on lochs,
Tied bodies unhidden.

Bumping into you was dire.
I could see her in your eyes
And your smiles were past
Any joys that I once knew,
She, with the blackest hair
Like yours, so suffocating,
So solemn and indifferent,
Burning my heart into ash,
Such weight, raying locks,
Flaming in the sun, smoke
That tears at that sky, shut
Eyes you turned about me,
My soul like raging coal fire,
Smothered daylight and air
As dirt on a casket sinking,
No need to state you were
So happy as I drifted away,
Like tarry mist upon the sea.

.

*If I were a poem
I’d ask you to fold me up
and put me in your pocket,
then at the end of the week,
toss me in the wash
with the rest of the clothes

And when you find me later,
smudged and smeared,
ripped and tattered into
little unrecognizable pieces,
don’t worry about it,
I was already like that

a multi faceted jewel
each ripple a reflection of
the burning in the atmosphere
a subtle, swift flick
sapphire, the color of many skies condensed
then poured over the terrain below
in a finale of deep waters
aglow with the heavens pride
and a whisper reveals its name
THE OCEAN.

A river runs
upon the ground
to hear the
continual song...
of relation
and passage.
The ground is set,
the river is not.
The heart has
cupped this water,
in a fit of compassion.