i
am hands
a leaf that spans
the winter
hemisphere.
you
holding my body
cradled
like a fetus
you nurture
rag doll bones.
burning
vision no longer necessary.
i've known
your
face
without waking.

she ran her hands along the body of a tree
feeling the texture of the earth's soul
breathing
in soft echoes,
i held the light that spilled from their eyes
trying to store it away in jars,
or pockets
but it was too evasive to hold.
and she whispered
away into footsteps
kidnapped by twilight.

I rolled up
George Washington's green face
And ****** the world into my nostrils
Feeling the decay
Of lost cities
Run on sentences
Rotting inside
Scarred throats
A bus into the grimy city-
Tires screeching on the road paved in bones

Lillies bloomed from her irises
And her fingers sprouted minuscule green shoots
Climbing the earth like how I dreamed of climbing you
And nestling beneath the warm humming of your blood
A passage into a quiet meditation room
Spiritually feeling my arms inside crevices that I have yet to find
Yet to feast eyes.
Flowers bloom from feet, roots cascade into a woven basket where we both might lie

under a pale sun
i bathe in a golden mixture
a thoughtful paragraph
of old hands
speaking
with the wrinkles of lives told backwards.
the restless twitching of mouths
hinders the night's lullaby
and they lie with sleepless eyes
in their beds,
a catacomb of memories best left in the shadows

the quiet blue sky
broke under the weight
of a praying palm
my eyes were a glass
tipped over
water running down
the streets,
an erosion
of what was kept
buried beneath

I am a ghost limb
Fall foilage
Turning into winter's dead heart
An empty gaze
With a bus stop full of people
Silent but speaking
With numb tongues.
And your voice is the only
Thing that's alive