Still water
resting
at the
bottom
of a
Pacific ocean
tide
pool,

reflections
of you
in my
mind
in the
Sunday
morning
light.

sometimes
I can imagine
I hear you
laughter
carried in
harmony
to me
on a
a salt-kissed
circling
wind.

and I
sit for
a moment
and smile.

I always
smile.

it is
a giving
thing that
you do.

your gentle
manner
of truth
and innocence.

I can always
feel it
there in
you eyes...

you are


where
good  poets
go to
die.

When it's dark we go to see the plants
no one else knows they're there
in the window of the entrance way
bright Mexican display of
flowering hearts
that laugh and love
love and laugh
I've dreamed of showing you
since the night we danced.

Shedding layers like crusted tundra
Equal parts bright and shade
Alternate to spread shadow or give light
With ragged edges I start to rip at weak seams
I am but many parts
Some of those gone soft, rotten
Hungry to pull away at them
Strip bare of every bruised surface
Moonlight cleansing sweet silver
Like holy water to the ******
Painful but necessary
I am reborn