You didn't love me
I was a burning building
And you were just looking
For something
To light your cigarette

These clouds of Italy are grown on vines,
Infidels of skies, fruit bearers of wine-veined
Marble, fertile in spite of its own lifeless tableau,
Here thrives the succulent garden of the alone,
Where turns aside the burnt nape of the plowman,
Voyager of the cool midnight seas of the mind,
Up to this arable vine of sighs from outworn gods,
And hears his heart once more give up its throne.

Like a highly active volcano
I feel I will burst
No one knows it but me
I hide behind a poker face

It hurts being so tumultuous,
being vulnerable to my emotions
But I am much too prideful,
so I keep it to myself

All it takes is for one thing to go wrong,
like the shifting of tectonic plates
For the mind quake and emotional tsunami

To be at peace
Quiet neighborhood
Hockey-stick kids
Leafy gardens

To be at peace
Inside my skull, present
Breathe between
Grief and grief

Here I rest
Wild geese calls
Wandering paths
Don’t pull me

Go, go, go; I’ll follow
Fly, I’ll be there after
Stillness carries inside me
Unbound by place or time

I am at peace, maybe
What, if not a constant battle?
I eat, sleep, rest
But the world is not an enemy
And I don’t know what to do

oh sweet midsummer dream
drifts in a cool evening breeze
my soul barely even sober
you kiss me awake only to tease