I couldn't believe
how lucky I was.
     even dreaming
of boyish hair in yellow eyes.

My mind knows what to make of it.

still I feel its like a winter,
   coming up on banks of snow
and slowing.

Yet--I recognize the glimmer
of what's buried
that can grow again.

magnetized once more by
space and time.

slow water willows
easing into the night sky
as green emerald leaves
bend
and quake,

circling in geometric spheres

owl in the moon
I can only hear her
and she cries out
heavy existence

lone,
wander and I feel

tirelessly--on the invisible search for transience
we travel unto night's unending highway

echoes of the past flooding
newborn ears, with every
breath they lose their innocence

in wary midnight the darkness is a comfort.--
a veil of uncertainty that once again brings freedom:
liberating what was stifled behind blue eyes

sun up--we lay back down
eased by fresh music of the day.
shield us before the light--
which, bringing freckles to each iris
reveals all that was unseen

and what else can we do but sit and feel?
without the cradle of the moon

wasting away inside these metal walls.
heat radiating,
etching the wings of a weakened fly

as if to try
and bring the life back
behind those many eyes

wary afternoon
minutes ticking out like beats

and bangs against the solid glass
against the bluest sky
how does one break free
of the invisible divide?