Our lampshades at midnight shine like amber moonlight,
like late august and amethyst; brief pulses of electric-cotton bliss.

They brand our bodies like ***** poppies
in the newest blue before the sunrise.

Dear, lay still as we shelter inside this warmth
Stay silent through the night, lest you need to speak.

If so, then whisper with your palms cupped 'round my skull
So i may feel your syllable kisses dance past the hair of my ear

To feel and know that this not be a dream

there's a fire on the treetops
that burns a yearning glow
projecting sounds of tremendous whirls
as it passes through the windows we left open.

just ahead, beyond these sights and sounds,
sits a peak, between here and the horizon,
where birds curiously soar
above this thing i've come to love.

these middle thing reek of sights and sounds i've not yet seen.
they sit silent, hidden, beyond the peak;
In the ashes of the burning trees.
this i know too well.

But I want to know those things,
I want to hear the whistle of wet wood
and the wings above my mountains peak;
to know a new horizon and

and feel new ground beneath my feet.

be little with me
as the sun rises and sets
and seasons become
our way of keeping time

be little with me
as if our nights will never end
and dreams are seen
as interruptions to this existence

be little with me,
while the world turns
another day old,
seemingly unfamiliar to itself

be little with me,
like an ant marching toward the edge of a finger,
feeling its way to knowing
a world yet so unknown.

be little with me
while some earthly feature holds our lying bodies
and the sky above busts with colorful clouds
and the breeze sweeps clean our toes

lovely, be little with me
today, tomorrow, and the next thing
before time reminds us
we are little no more

50 minutes of moonlight fills me
with fragrance of cinnamon and spores.
shadows and decaying tree tops
fall on an illuminated floor.

my breath will remain full
as the night falls to end,
while the fear behind each tree trunk
grows with moans and croaks and woes.

my sounds, they echo, as if to live another life and
my heat expels as if to warm the earth.
i may die unknown, dark and cold within the forrest
but at least i knew the forrest

and the forrest knew my woes.

I awoke to the screaming trees and bursts of flashing light
with colors of electric etymology and earnestly held emotions.
they were sounds of embattled fervor;
they were ablaze with unkempt rage.

I awoke to the screaming trees full of query and hopeful resolution
but the tribesmen still only cackled at the sight of my pasty skin.

there's a field i long to sow
and a sun i need to praise.
where the clouds,
the sky,
and grass,
belong to me.
while there,
i know that all i have and all i am is free.

that is all.
that's it.
that's all i'll ever need.