The dry-soap was stripping
the soft off the light frames of delicate bone
working among the cold cutlery.

I had forgotten to check her eyes
before I began dropping little bombs,
full of little words,
unresolved like her white wrists,
and straining.

I had lit tiny failures in her irises.

And I had been so close to her neck,
I had inhaled pieces of her,
lonely pines, blue gardens,
and she
deliciously flooded
my cerebra-

What a rupture-

A blood fission
under layers of tissue-

As she turned,
affecting her face unto mine,
I sensed nothing but
how the earth must feel
after quaking.

All provoked parts swelled to
some size,
a goddess rudely awakened,
the moment securing a lesson,
needing to, only once.

In the heat-spaces
between our organs,
and rampant skin,
my little words remained hanging,
Just beneath her gaze-
The death of some sound.

"how is it you allowed yourself into a place like this?

and she was so likely,
just there,
skimming her fingers over the tall grass

it grew so high and so blue
and so did I

she hummed in the stiff air,
a regal avian,
just silvern silence

I could not answer

“And aren't you so fatigued?
You must be... in a place like this."

                                                                       - I could not answer

her eyes caught the soft
burning of the sky
and dared my lips
to lie

this meadow is
the loudest sanctuary
where its silence
struck all the bones in my body

she cried so softly

                                                                      - "was it your wish to turn?"

were those my tears?

From the beginning, the lesson has always been the same
to never rest responsibilities on no brow but mine,
and this counts for movement, creation,
production, prosperity,
repercussion,
function, and gumption.

All the times I am attached,
I am blessed and protected and cured,
but by all means,
it's too easy.

After a honeymoon's worth,
like any wild thing
without a real home,
I scratch to go outside.

For one truth being the weight of my footsteps,
and with each placement a wealth of self-reliance,
surely I'm prouder than any motor.

And most of all,
to greet the night as I greet the day,
I accept my stillness,
my unbottled moment,
which dictates I may breathe
the freedom to reap my bounty.

SHY
indecision moves-
pulling waves
unfurling her-
mute under slow drift-
she considers
coy eyes
or none at all


DISTRACTIONS
multiple kinds of rush to keep steady–
multiple rushes to make numb–
multiples fractioned attention–
all this to feel it fit to breathe–
to feel fit for getting–


ONE STEP AHEAD
in its own language
her visage stills-
softens the gaze
full unto his need


YOU FIRST
the inclination–his
yearning–sparked
and executed en pointe
sa vie–précise–


BLUSH
of dropping knives–
the delicacy–
reminding her of uncertainty
pending smiles 
cheekbones raised–
his and hers–


A GOOD DAY
maidened features
spool delicate rhythms
evoke love songs from her palate
and her face–
he paints it–  
dressed in light–


PURSUIT
his attempt–this
requires heart–
rewires nerves-
creates a caution
and her lamplit orbs-
doe-like-
stirring in vein–


VIBE
across heads are more heads under sense-arrest
but just two pairs of eyes connecting brown to black 
throughout entwining want-threads–
the myriad–oblivation–


GUILTY
upon her neck thoughts exhale
upon the choleric-
suddenly the sanguine-
upon a thought–
her neck–
one–
two–
many–

Within the air, defined with moss and lichen, and casualties of wet rotting wood-depletion on the dregs of the summit, is a flicker of reality. Here, no naked cedars or fair-weather friends are bent and leaning along the sturdy, unadorned spines of rifle green spruces. The stone-crushed trail takes above the haze of tree lines, founding a path by and beyond the fickle trustworthiness of rocks, and the wind carries all of fog and cloud away, and whispers like one thousand ghosts, and deceives the shrouded mountain’s inclines, unfolding above unto the soft clarity of dew and silence. The only reality is a place where the neck can ease its craned crooked coils to view the now-seemingly distant and muted pale orb of a star. And nothing here cannot breathed with. And nothing that can’t be understood is here amongst the scarred-ancient black cliffs and fissions of olden earth-crust and time. And nothing scales above the lonely, opening a prayer in the sky and the space.

I’ve walked it often
in the mind’s traces
yet cannot recall
the days of that space
I’ve seen
the sweet white cottage
honed in on
one sore standstill
and filled with
elegant wood spiders
and with all
the brush surrounding
I am sure
I was of an age
requiring doubled strides
I am sure
there was a
beach nearby
and a part about
repairing the door
the ****
a crack or two
I know this place
is real somewhere
I have seen it
in almost visions
glowing asymbolic
such a memory and
no basis
such a home without
a heart
no strife nor canned emotion
just the palest vision now
and blinding curiosity

from downtown
back to your door
we swing brown bottles
and warm our salty skin
while you ache to bookmark
the middle of this july-

(your road is stretched long and far
but i know where it goes)

-we already know the summer
as it settles over salt and coats the land
and cups our skin

-its dust repeats itself
shamelessly
and drives us to porches
and brown bottles
and your ninth cigarette
and unrequited conversation-

(my mind splits itself up
when every second is stagnant-
when somewhere else keeps calling-
when my violent beast starts snarling)

and then five thirty
looks like so many violets-
queen anne's lace and cattails-
all the bouncing bees
and thrushes-

-the fields aflush with
full grains and hairs and fibers
and all the murmuring voices-

-is screaming
and so wanted
and away from the road
we walk on
(this road-
one of yours)

-looks less believable
with every step-
(the road is stretched long and far
and you know where it goes)

i could not tear away from it
to keep my eyes on your road-
you swig from all your bottles-
you follow the dust?-
can we be lions instead?

did you know there is no road?
we need only taste the air,
or glean the wind