You're across
An ocean swell
You're across
A boat's plough crushing
Waves down down

You're beyond
An island crowned in orange cloud
Seagulls busy dancing tangos
On the greasy wind.

You're way past
The strokes of spits of sand saliva
Of palm trees clapping coconuts
Making feigned horsehoove beats
To bring the waves a shouting match.
Roars clean the salty, dry air.

You've passed,
The shallow castles
Of whale dens,
Keeping ships in new homes
Wooden kin with keels and ribs
Flies and jibs.

You're not here, that's for sure,
But,
I feel you,
Maybe somehow.
I do.

12:02  in the night
and I miss the other 12:02-s
with you and Dylan’s blues
and no words sometimes
just with the drinks in which we were drowning, but we wouldn't let
each other die.

12:02 in the night
and I am trying to hold your voice somewhere
in the corner of my mind,
but it fades away with every second.
I'm trying to remember the way your left eye would smile
everytime after I’d kiss it,
the way you used to write my body down on random pieces of paper,
the nights in the bars,
the smoke of cigars,
the tissues on which we would write our love,
the morning coffee,
your body next to mine,
your dreams, my tears, your trains,
the station where I've waited for you
so many times,
the way your fingers would touch my skin,
the words,
the flowers,
your shirt covering my body in the morning,
your heart,
that night at the beach,
or the sunrises.
I'm trying to remember
the “you and I”,
the we

I'm trying to remember when did we give up
saving each other
from drowning to death.

I sought out
A girl whom I could envy
I sought in
A feeling I could control.

Laughing meltwater laughter
Skimming stones with skipping feet
All together
As if nothing were the same as others.

I sought out
A bond forged in experience
I brought in a little less control
I found myself drawn

To just one more hug.

Don't let's go, don't let's be
It's not as simple
As love and hate
For I was not free

I hold your hand and
Feel the shackles
I stroke your hair and
Feel the web.
Sticky.

I look at my feet
As I trot beside you and
I'm led by sticks and carrots
By my endless want for something
You'll have to go away to give me.

She sat down
I put the page in front
She merely stared
And painted a sea with teardrops on the shredded wood.

I passed along,
Pencil, charcoal, all that needs free
She sniffed, 'Better?' she said,
'I will feel better?'

Taking up her shivering white pencils
Of thin frail fingers, gripping graphite
Scratch, scratch, like a cat
Wanting to leave a locked room

The grey became black
The dust became mountains
And, she saw in here her life
As the clouds became rains

'But look', I put in
'Look what suns I make,
With a caring hand' I
Pushed a finger into the depths

A sunny print came out

Lisping, she rasped her breath back
And put a hand to the black dirt of the breaking
And made a hand-print;
Simple, like her delight

'You will learn to make
Suns of the shadows,
You will learn to make
Smiles of the silences

Your lines will be straighter
Your circles more graceful,
More curved to your *****
More jagged, if you wish.'

I smiled and she nodded
And watched her last tear fall,
Splashing down with tidal forces of sorrow on the page
An artist was born.