While in Istanbul one night, the woman showing me the city asked:
-“What do you look for in a man?”

My mind immediately fixated upon you.
How to tell world that the sillage of your touch remains upon my skin
That my nights end with your breath upon my lips,
And the early morning dawn is infused with your scent.

After a few moments,  with a sad smile I said:
“I don't, I have already found him”.

it was your breath within my breath
the taste of you
my desire
all so deliciously entangled

WE lose ourselves in love
as footprints in the desert

as memories,
pieces of paper,
all attached by some invisible string
so delicate,
so tangible,

these are the pieces of my life
all carefully arranged; away from a narrative
like verses in a poem
they can stand alone but mean so much more together
trully grasping my soul

My heart has waited
waited for you
As if underwater
now that you have returned
it can breathe again

Rich as touch,
As the stroke of ink
to the page,
as simple
as beautiful
as your breath to my ear
Darling, speak again.

Satisfy my madness,
Leave your clothes
at the door.
Turn off the light.
Now Catch me!

I'm running out of paper
I'm running out of ink
I cannot write you
no matter how I try

I put on my travelling shoes and begun my journey
For years, I traveled to far away places
In the long nights, I longed for home
In the morning dew, I longed for the road

act with full knowledge:
look down into the precipice
before jumping

I can never be freed from you
no where is safe
i take you with me always

I have so many questions
but no matter the answer
you are no longer with me

If I were to die here, would you take me back home?
Take my remains and bury them under a maple tree.
To lie forever in a place where;
I learned to love, my first young fiery love.
Where my passion for prose and poem was born.
If I were to die here, please take me back home.
I want the seasons to be sifted into my grave,
The cold dry winter air breezing through my remains
The spring bud ripen into new life right above me
Feel the humid summer drip onto me as I lay still
And have the slow deciduous descent of maple leaves as my quilt.
I want to lie forever in no other place, than my sweet northern home.