I pressed my ear to the ***** of the
silence before dawn.This is the hour
when birds wake up, contemplating
on what to sing. The sky's smudged
in dispersing clouds. Priests are
washing up for the morning prayer.
Tots plead to sleep more. Here I find
the blessed light that trudged past
aeons and aether, now scattering
past the screen of mists, illuminating
your face, blooming over lotus lakes.
You were up, weeping with the winds
wheezing through the streets all night.
No bells, no flowers, no incense
rosaries or hymnals, this my chapel
is the other shrine in this home.
Now I kneel hearing the throb of love.
One, nameless, the continuum that
here I call myself and there, you.

you
ya, you
blockin' my way
in the ******* car
the gas guzzler
with the loud music
and crazy laughter
head swayin'
dreadlocks swingin'
smoking somethin'
a cigar
cigarette
blunt
who knows
who cares
move out the way foo'
i mean
i dig the music
the dreads
yeah
but **** man
i gotta get on
i'm inna hurry
so move your ****** car!

I love to read
books, ordinarily  
people, uniquely
you, especially

I love to watch
romantic comedies
and you
the way you smile and scowl, when you think no one is watching you read your favorite book

I love to listen
to music that makes no sense on the surface
and to you
the laugh you let loose when you beat me in Mario Cart for the tenth time, too late at night

I love to feel
my favorite blanket, clean and fresh out of the dryer
and you
your body pressed up against mine warm and strong, as we hide from the thunderstorm outside

I love to love
the simplest parts of my happy life
and you
because you are the happiness in my life
and without you
my happy life would not be

I am of a strange alchemy.
Iron and tarnished silver,
with porcelain hands.
The rest feels like glass.
Fragile.
Vulnerable.
As though the smallest tremor
could send me falling
to shatter.

Dear Willa,

I'm writing you for health and recovery, not just selfish feelings of affection. The truth is your love haunts me still. When I turn off my lights at night, its as if you're in the corner of the room still whispering sweet gestures in my ear. My love persists without permission and only rears itself in my dreams. You are not just the girl of my dreams, you ARE the girl of my dreams. Even though your physical presence left me long ago, your phantom stays in my mind, caressing me and keeping me company in the loneliest crevasses of my brain. I miss you every morning and think of you often in waking life, though it seems harmful for me. I can't help but think of you when just the night before you smiled at me so sweet and told me you still love me in so many different scenes. It appears that when I told you my heart was yours with my hands cupped together with nothing but air in them and tears in my eyes, I was giving you more than I knew.

It's only you for me, just like the whooping crane, for he has a wife his for all his life and if she dies, he'll do the same.

Goodnight,
My Hotpak