We all dance and sing
To sounds unheard
And rhythms felt in flesh
Like one we move
And though our distance grows
We are timeless bound
In a sacred heritage
Of genetic expression

I carve my love
In broken and decaying bone
Promises scratched in red sand
On worlds distant
And lacking atmosphere

I cannot fathom
The distance your message
Had to travel through space
Only to be discarded
Out of the basic fear
Of being alone

Carried away by the ocean
To sights far from shore, on
The swells of sweet-blue brine
And waves like skyscrapers
Help, o' rescuer mine

Carried away by the ocean
Like a flea on a dog
On an elephant sea
A small life, determined
By whim, fate or fancy

Carried away by the ocean
Or drowned, a ship scuttled
Car'ed away, or Taken?
I fear this no nightmare,
no green world to wake in

Carried away by the ocean
Me, a thought, Me afloat
A salt breath in, rhythm
Eyes up, not ocean blue
A floater, white phantom

Carried away by the ocean
Sudden, tumultuous
roar, crash, repeat, closer
Closer! hum, whine, mouth sounds
Pull, no Wet. warm. Answer.

The sun sets behind too many trees,
inverted needles stabbing at the sky

The sky bleeds, crimson then rose then amber
As blue fades into violet, and the forest becomes blotchy

Thick ink dropped in water, cloudy
and almost impenetrable, then translucence is consumed

Memory is this way
The way I remember you, is this way

A bad taste on the tongue,
sour milk, moldy bread, tang

I once tried to paint with my memory of you,
and the colours ran, mixed, stained my canvas

I've painted over you a few times,
but you're a scar

The sun sets behind too many trees,
I can't see it, save for the shadows

soft and lustrous, these colours decorate
like stars of a feather, all wrapped together
if i close my eyes, they begin to swim
tight in a spiral, they spin and spin
each colour a story, vivid and rich
amber - a cobbler, poor and overworked
blue - a priest, with sermons of doubt
and that green, and this red
a tapestry woven in luminosity

with the darkness of winter closing out our days
so too is winter's bite, silent, invisible
mandibles of frost and hypothermia

at first the pressure is light, even pleasant
an embrace, and we welcome it
until it starts to hurt

the chill eats at your fingers, your nose
a cold consumption
of unprotected flesh

there is no fighting, no hiding
only waiting, and freezing
winter is long, and winter's bite - patient