Somewhere
there is a room
of objects
tainted
by your fragile presence.

The crunch of glass
closes me tightly
throat, eyes, toes gripping.
A halo of fluorescent pink
around his dripping skull.

I avert myself
my eyes
swallowed by the night
and cease to exist.
Fear precipitates on
city fumes,
turning into tiny droplets
that run red rivers.

Somewhere
there is a room
of objects.
It comforts me.

Jasmine, I am
the scent of your
unfulfilled dreams.
You peek through
a quiet curtain.
presence,
formless truth.
Empty roads
crossroads
you fill me in, heavy
heady substance.
Colour me in
with your weight,
and all four dimensions
collapse into one
point in space.

It is dark,
the universe between us.
In the absence of gravity
your light has scattered
to places I don’t know.

You are the moon. (An illusion of
light, maybe. Or a mirror)
Heavy,
a winter coat
shrugged off.
Is what I used to be

What is love? You ask me as
the first breath of frost whispers
goodbye on your lips.

I feel quite strongly that life’s
immensity hangs in the summer
breeze; particles of dust that glimmer
in the sun behind your heels.

They say that our atoms are spread thin
like a crisp sheet that catches the wind
and settles fragrantly
/
deep inside my mind

But the universe is in your eyes
as dense as a black hole
and as light as the sky;
fields of wheat stirring in the
evening sun
as I taste life everywhere
soaking into my bones.

Your innocent breath,
unfolding itself
gently
.
wholly

melting light
into my cold skin.
time is
folding spherically
O
folding infinitely/boundless
or
floating selflessly
through empty space
together

Soft flakes of dust
sail in your narrow shaft of light,
our breath
determining
their final resting place.

What is an idea if not to be realized?
I am the cave and you are beyond reach.
Without light there are no
shadows (except you.)
We are the footsteps
echoing God’s hollow chorus.

No two electrons in the universe
are in the same energy level
He said
(Even though I can taste the salt
in your tears like a sea
between the shores of our souls)

I think you are the rain
and I am the lake. (You are soft
and the sky is hesitant to let you go)
Or maybe you are the light,
and I am the space
around those slits in time.

As every baby draws its first breath,
our chaos expands and I see your victory
in the creaking of the trees and the
cancer in your love. “Look on my works,
ye mighty, and despair!”

It is energetically favourable
for two distant atoms to move
closer together (but not too close together).
You are inside me (a part from me)
but too close to touch.
I am everywhere
but we are nowhere without each other.

A shape with no substance,
you tear green ribbons into my sky
to tempt me with the heavens
beyond.
But no knife is sharp enough
to cut open our seams;
our electrons take
each breath together.

like water
I take the shape
of the space between
those things that
can’t be said.

If I stay still
completely
unmoving
I am transparent

Maybe time won’t
find
me here. I will be everything
and nothing
like water
losing myself
in the folds of his mind

There is truth in
the fleeting beauty
of the shadows of trees.
Only your light swims
polynomial arcs, leaves
in the sea of air
exhaled by winter.
Glimpses only the weight
of your branches can unfold
and loves only the
paths of our soul have foretold.

Sometimes, my skull fills with water
And I forget what we are
We are not.
We

Typewritten letters punch holes inside my mind
Beams of light sifting through sand.
Or rainshowers
impregnating truth
where there is none

My physical realisation
wants for nothing.
Nothing
in us carries the weight
of our waters
like the ebb and flow
of life’s tide.