You're less than I thought you were.
I am less than I thought I'd be.
Somewhere between
the sifting sand, and tide
I remember us, poor and volatile.
A volcano - the crust defending
eruption -

You smiled and I choked.

I’m writing this for you Annie,
and I’m writing it with bipolar keys
in rapid speed.

They remain stale in the air. Impatiently waiting
in the glow of the low-lit-monitor. Their purpose
undefined without action.

It’s only for a moment they feel weightless,
harvesting energy - exploding upwards.
Their screams of ecstasy muffled by the resonance
of my key-connecting-finger-snaps.  

Keys in rapid speed.

In the seasons
where leaves break like bones
beneath treading soles,
I tied impetuous hands,
which grazed her hips,
and bound them to the trail
of her hair down her back.

Frigid -- the droplets of ice
beating my veins like
a metronome clock—
hands shook, and dirt
grew beneath nails.

Clouds formed a river of stars
gazing in the blue moon.
I watched as it receded
and dried along the edges of
of the roof.

You look lost, a stitched-woman, voiding the wind in your hair.  
Like face-free-eyes lighting a temple in their reflection
you glare knotted in fall-spokes dreaming of winter.
-Tea is steaming from your glass -
God has turned left-hand memories into ports beneath skin
filling in the dreams of your frozen hair, like veins.  
A gold-oil spills from your lips as you breathe  
in my mouth - Your glass still steaming -

When you come back: Will lay me in your reflection and listen
for the sound of my hair in your hands?

I dream of snow - dreaming of whispers -
colliding and beading on the glass;
and the dissipation of dew
from the weeds that grew
in the cracks of my window.

I discovered:

In young love - we grab the sun
from our window-sill-horizon and
sheath ourselves in warmth.  

And

In the midst of love - we rise together
and let the wind soak into the feathers of our wings
and rain waves to the ocean shore.

And

In the oldest love that we dance amongst
the refracting moonlight of  heart-sea.

But

It’s in Our Love that we forever hold the sun,
rise together, and dance in the raining warmth of our heart.

I carried you on earthen wings
and when we began
the feathers that fell sprouted
fish which flew within our trail.

Milkweeds grew from the red-soiled banks. Their tops
spout like tiny fountains. The Birds bathed within
pink milkweed pools.

Downstream
a chained woman cried,
her blouse coated in sweat and her arms
pulled tight.
Her face lifted towards the sky,
and her mouth dripped thick saliva.

A broken windmill
floated in the gusts of wind
And the current flung us into space.

You gripped my neck
and ran your hands
to my chest. Your fingers stopped
at the pulsation
and you delivered a pin
to my left ventricle.

Poised and clenching we watched
the continents turn grey