onus of science, or dream, to all explain;
the inexplicable remains dismissed:
being here or there: exactly arranged
and no one yearns to know of nothingness
between the emptiness of meanings each
with labeled names, boxes tightly-packed--
towers darkly lined, well beyond the reach
of but a few, lost, scattered minds...
xe shouted through hir lungs a greener hue
that we could live beyond the concrete grey
die in love despite our evil ignorance,
our rainbow cutouts crying for the sun
  --posthumous teleologies begun
  in kinder dreamers, earthly songs enhanced.

You took me to the beach house
along Amaryllis Street

so I could pick up where you left off

crushing waves against the rocks
the high tide  
re-collecting in time-lapse images

how you had vanished up the dirt road of a lie
(sand between my teeth, on my tongue)
how I had buried bulbs of Amaryllis
in the wake of your goodbye

a casket of dormancy suspended
an unanchored buoyancy disposing of I
in seaweed trenches

besides

the Amaryllis bloomed  
a distant wreath of pink trumpet heads

splitting

pushing through the time-lapse
holograms of a shallow rhizome mind

Through the alcove window
in the arms of pines
a spectre in the dark appeared to me
on the sighs of slumbering night sounds
no feet could touch the ground

Gliding down the mountain *****
no feet to touch the ground
the spectre fell onto her knees
clawing moss and dirt and things unseen

Arms outstretched
her shoulders shuddered
an array of exclamations
contorted in her screams
she ripped apart the tender parts
that daylight must not see

She wailed for emptiness
She wailed for sleep
She wailed for peace that never comes
to a spectre in the witching hour
who beats the earth with fists of fire
and clenches things unseen

No comfort in the arms of pines
for the spectre on her knees
out in the midnight drizzle  
no comfort here for me

And so I know that spectre
that spectre on her knees
can only be the ghost
the ghost you left in me

great love to me is frightening
it's all ache and burn
the
rearranging of breath & bones
justifying anything at all to see that
smile in front of me
I can't
rightfully explain it the way my knees can
or my
right hand but
I like to call it floating
I like to feel that &
sink at the same time \
it's confusing and beautiful;
hours become petals,
heartbeats are worthy and
it is cold settling after this.
it is unbreathable
when the warmth gets wasted