lovers pouring in
traffic ebbs and flows
drowning in this sea
you would never suppose

it all seems like such a waste
one brief life one brief taste
vaporous faces drift on by
float on and upwards
through the wounded sky

oh i remember the caress of time
the crash of the waves
fingers all feathered and divine
glistening oblivion in salty blue caves

and you still look on
from long ago
head full of serpents
heart full of stone

Into you

learning to be
a divided
submersible

once so perimetric
on the fringe
of all that grows within

we thus fall
and settle
much like Sarajevo Roses

colorfully resting
in the lasting drawn out
places we made perish

now
here
am I

into you

the ******
connective
entirely dependent

upon
the quotient
of two integers

the way we love
is a method
of mixed results

To my dearest Love.
I pray you don’t go after
a man who is handsome
or wealthy, or even a poet.

I pray you seek a man
who understands
your heart and the wounds
and bruises it may carry,
and how to tend to it
when they are reopened.

Your heart will come
with instructions.

They will be written
in your eyes, in your smile,
in your laughs and in your cries.
They will be printed on all the things
that move your soul.
I pray you find a man who is
wise enough to read them.
But more than anything
I pray you will come to
know, love and understand
your own heart first before
entrusting another to do so.