Look at me.
I have my side soaked with these sparks
melting away so many veiled winters.
There’s ivy in the songs I listen to
at nights
and that thin line that separates (interpreting us)
the want for each other
from the want to ravish one another.

I don’t know.
Nostalgize me.
Let’s go back to blinks and look at us
right before you end us...
“Able or unable?”
Madrid was burning yet there was a kiss
in which we didn’t care about
dying in flames.

Take out the camera and capture this:
The Moon cries as well
knowing it will never
be able to reach the wolf.

it could almost be music this excess of heat
and yes spring is gathering (a promise)
the moisture of my body up into the clouds
could this be what makes the plum tree blossom

there are
times when
the world insists on
making meaning don’t
turn this
into an abstraction
my hand
down
here between your
legs covered
with moss (I can almost
feel your milky roots)
watch my fingers
as I touch you there is
electricity
can you
see it
watch me get on my
knees this is
the sky flowing out
of your hips can you
see it this is
what gives (milk)
to all of my
hungers don’t
stop
let me
make you flesh
into blossom let me
take you down
into me
like the rain