the vertigo of dwarves--

seven bites into a snowy

apple.

caramelizing dusk.

a full viewing.

her overslept perfection.

her eyelashes flaking off

tremorous go betweens.

her cheeks, rash & unapplied

blush--what's soup to winter.

or what feigns the circulature  

of a latter stir.

Accept and move, with a steadfast stride,

confess to the wind,
who knows only of freedom
and bears no burdens.

(I am your breeze)

finally the snow
comes in a steadfast,
overnight blow

and we expect,
depend and know
that lovely quietness
of winter.

everything hushed,
more still and so
we whisper

the river never met the shore,
though knew it in a dream.
    
     the ocean never knew the moon -
     love based on tenuous beams.

perhaps the lesson here: implore!
on all those things that you adore.

at the end of winding roads, you still follow.
I believe in everything you are
to me, you are the reason and the means
to anything and everything I need.

still waters sicken
at the ephemeral stream,
whose current is dream


Wading in waist-high water;
and I love you so violent,
more than maybe I can do.