I am wondering about the perfect love
which is the voice of my silence
the soft wind of my wings
and the blue sky of my sea

Things will get better,
Because they always do.

And things will get worse,
Because they always do.

Somewhere a dandelion
clicks,

it starts
to put out seed pods--

A tadpole's metamorpho--
sis

reveals a little tree frog

The young one sprawls
with Shiva's love
The old one spars with Vishnu

A tree has breached the canopy,
Your crush just up and kissed you

Your capillaries dilate
Revealing what's inside
So wrinkle up your rosy face
But love, you cannot hide

And somewhere else, a songbird dies
Beside an oxbow lake
And both lay still,
And beautiful
And know the river's wake.

You really pulled me,
In, I wasn't expecting,
You to be the one.

at the edge of night
vultures circle
the bones of another day
leaving me
one sunset
closer to my grave

diagonally
wet lines slice the dry summer
storm rages; sun rests

I broke too much
of myself
thinking someone
could fix me.

I should have not
turned myself
to pieces
in the first place.

Because no one
would ever keep
a broken mirror
in their pockets.