I find you between the lines,
when the sky is mercury
and the world slows to a halt.

in these moments
       (listen--the ocean is silent)
we whisper, crashing

in and out of starry tenderness,
hurricane youth. and
I find you between the lines

where our bodies fade into one another,
where hand meets hand meets
earth: there is something about

windy mornings, tacit eternities
and the way your fingers
             find escape in my hair.

--but i have realized
that i live for the ash in your eyes,
the shadows i kiss from your collarbones
the unspoken flames that dance
                                     across your skin

igniting, consuming.
between the swirling dust
and your smoky eyelashes,
i breathe you,
choke on the embers and
love every moment of it.

dream not of winters, gentle storm
       let rosy summer whispers warm
your thunder heart, restitched and torn
       by fleeting waters
                        silence-born.

bare feet
          concrete jungle
stepping, stopping,
gone
the smallest of pebbles
neon flickers
                                                        ­      do not call after her
night erases the gaps
streetlights dim
loneliness
            glows
                                              ­                do not call after her
she dances telephone wires
       asphalt horizons
                                                              do­ not call after her
even the sidewalks
are silent

between the spidery cracks of a broken
mirror I search for pieces of you.

in this dark room of echoes
and paper
            clips, I fear I am lost
despite the timid spindles of light that
     ghost their way
through the gaps. they dance in fractal
cobwebs on the wooden boards, distracting me
from the emptiness I hold--like a dime--between
               my thumb and forefinger.