The way the letters of your name fall upon the page seems so beautiful to me. Their sprawling swooping quality drives me mad and I want to see if my name sounds the way yours looks when you whisper it in my ear at 3 a.m. on a Thursday night when the whole world stops to listen to our synchronized breath.

I am searching for someone.
He's tall and handsome
With erratic dark hair that dances on his head when he laughs
And large, white teeth that aren't too big for his mouth.
He likes to sing old songs under his breath when he has to make hard decisions and when he hugs me he puts his scratchy chin in the curvature of my neck and it fits like it was made for him.
I would have brought along a picture but he hates having his picture taken and all the good ones are at his house anyways.
I love him.
He left because he said he needed to find something, though I can't remember what.
It's been one week since and he still isn't back.
He was humming a Beach Boy's song as he walked out the door into the cold November air last Tuesday.
Let me know if you see him.
Thank you for your time.

you're my ideal.
you're the dream I dream to put myself to sleep each night.
I don't think that I truly want you, because you are gone now
and our lives are very different.
but if time would have skipped to a slightly different beat,
maybe I would be the one lying on your lap and holding your face while the night outside swallowed us whole.

If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
  That you were gone, not to return again—
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
  Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
  And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man—who happened to be you—
  At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud—I could not cry
  Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place—
I should but watch the station lights rush by
  With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.

At last you have departed and gone to the Unseen.
What marvelous route did you take from this world?

Beating your wings and feathers,
you broke free from this cage.
Rising up to the sky
you attained the world of the soul.
You were a prized falcon trapped by an Old Woman.
Then you heard the drummer's call
and flew beyond space and time.

As a lovesick nightingale, you flew among the owls.
Then came the scent of the rosegarden
and you flew off to meet the Rose.

The wine of this fleeting world
caused your head to ache.
Finally you joined the tavern of Eternity.
Like an arrow, you sped from the bow
and went straight for the bull's eye of bliss.

This phantom world gave you false signs
But you turned from the illusion
and journeyed to the land of truth.

You are now the Sun -
what need have you for a crown?
You have vanished from this world -
what need have you to tie your robe?

I've heard that you can barely see your soul.
But why look at all? -
yours is now the Soul of Souls!

O heart, what a wonderful bird you are.
Seeking divine heights,
Flapping your wings,
you smashed the pointed spears of your enemy.

The flowers flee from Autumn, but not you -
You are the fearless rose
that grows amidst the freezing wind.

Pouring down like the rain of heaven
you fell upon the rooftop of this world.
Then you ran in every direction
and escaped through the drain spout . . .

Now the words are over
and the pain they bring is gone.
Now you have gone to rest
in the arms of the Beloved.