'strength or energy' -
'coercion or compulsion' -
  'push or pull,' you made me lull
    myself away from myself
     in parlous daydreams
      it was the object, the promise, the need
       for you against
        me, unmet because of the headstrong
         mountains in-between
           it was the bells
           pavlov felt would make me
          your dog, your perfect angel-
         demon infidel, and to answer your question
        i don't believe
       in us anymore, but there's a difficult heat
      from the matter inside me
     the human that breathes
    for your reality
   that lulls itself to sleep with nonsensical scenes, with
  the sleepy possibility
of you and me

maybe I could drive away, drive my way
towards you
get past Tennessee
and through
watch the flowers die and bloom
maybe if I lose my mind—
come closer to the truth
maybe if I look for you
in mountains you’ll be carved into
them just the way
I always do—
you’re in my mind
you’re in my room
I see you in the phantom blue, I
fall I drown I look for you
I close my eyes, don’t wanna lose

I close my eyes;
the flowers bloom

Humming silent calmness
The gentle breeze over empty fields
Birds biting their tongues
Stillness in turmoil

Hateful deafening calm
Breath screaming into the wind
Feet covered by the dust coated earth
Uncomfortable by the peace

He never sings in stadiums
There are no curtain calls
He follows his musical heartstrings
That leads him to village halls.
Singing songs for a living
And he'll tell you he wrote a few
His love it is for music
And he is out there singing for you.
He travels around the country
Performing one night stands
He never makes much money
And he hasn't got a band.
He was never there with the big names
They just gave him a little slot
Then he doesn't  care for all that fame
He is happy for all that he has got.
Now he's been around for fifty years
And still doing his same kind of thing
His fans they are still out there
So he thanks them for everything.

what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
but
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms
indistinguishable

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists