For months after,

        I tasted you in the flowered mug we took shots of Jim Beam out of—it went down like hot velvet.

        I saw you in every sliver of my Grape Hyacinth eyes and constellations of freckles.

I’ve halved you into here and there—into miles of unwelcome blooms.

oldest distillery in
the country

still using the
original method
of cooking,
fermenting,
distilling,
and
aging
in
new oak
barrels

the nectar of the hicks
of the world
brewed
in such a beautiful
and natural place

future and past
fused together

quietly keeping the
whole world
wasted

Sunlight dying on the
cold horizon; lingering adoration
within sentimental messages
from this blonde ambition.

Those wretched words
caressing my skin.

The bottle of
Tennessee Honey
on the dusty shelf.
The bitter
sweet memories
she left me,
kept on display.

Tennessee

A quiet cabin in the woods,
selling books and cups of joe.
It sounds to me quite perfect.
Just the place I'd like to go.

Wooden windows, shingled roof,
and floors you have to brush.
A place where time moves slower,
where there's never any rush.

A swing out on the back porch.
A rocking chair, or two.
Your little piece of heaven.
Do you think I could come too?

I'd sweep the floors and chop the wood.
Split logs and farm the land.
If that was what it took for me,
to be with you hand in hand.

At night we'd watch the fireflies,
and count stars up in the sky.
Sharing cocoa 'neath a blanket,
and perhaps some homemade pie.

Our life would be a simple one,
of laughter, love and joy.
A perfect new age fairytale,
how you the girl, met me the boy.

I once stood in the hallowed halls
Of my own hope,
My soul aspiring to reunite with the blood red brick.

One year passed,
And I stand, dwarfed,
Beneath the walls built upon the passion of the accomplished.  

Now: Two duffels and two backpacks – more than I would need.
Monochromatic gray clouds block the sunlight I know is mine.
When last did your ribs expand with freedom?
When last did your blood flow with clarity?
Dormant soul: restless sleep, awake but never conscious.
My ambition has been annihilated, but my heart quietly demands:
Find your light.
My shaking hands turn the key into the ignition.

The kind waitress asks where I am from, her voice sweet as a sun-ripened berry.
Do I tell her I came from from Delaware?
Do I say to her, I am from New Jersey?
Or do I tell her the truth – that my soul has found peace in the mountains,
I can breathe easily now.
I hear now only the fresh water rushing over boulders
I have found my path
And it begins here.
My heart is from here.

When last did the birds’ song charge my soul,
Flood it with the energy of lemons,
Electrified!
I know not when last,
But I know it is here.

Swimming, as if through God’s good graces,
Living the river water rushing around me,
I am engulfed.
I am engulfed in life.

My bones rejoice.

Fog indistinguishable from smoke,
Smoke, indistinguishable from breath.
The mountains stare into me,
And I into them.

I continue forward.

Some may ask,
Why?
And to them, I can say only,
It was my soul’s demand.

The mist settles heavy over the Smokies,
Weighing down the weariness of my heart.
I want to scream –
I must beseech of them –
How may I live like you?

As the sunlight lazily cascades over the peaks of this secret, conspicuous place
It casts shadows and hope alike.
Bees sing, dutifully fulfilling their job,
And I, the same.

Days melt into one another
And my paradise fades behind the mountains growing ever smaller.

But my soul rejoices with this place,
And I know that I am found.