when someone hands you a rose
it is beautiful in front of your eyes
but place that rose behind your back
to see the beauty you cannot see.

the beauty your heart knows
the beauty your mind desires.

the beauty of that rose handed to you
is a sincere emotional transaction between two people.

he harped poetic
and
the birds chirped confused
as
the sun thawed a mossy field
for
our toes and heels to sink into.

the
wind of some other horizon swept
past
to clean my bones of flesh
so
i could know no more;
forever.

i found myself doing laundry
filling the revolving well of ***** linens
shutting the door and adding detergent
when suddenly,
as i was completing this task,

a bell rung.
naturally.
and i felt complete.
for i knew we no longer share the same fishbowl
even though i sometimes wish you were here.

this electric line of some green and glowing thing
divided the dark limits of forever and the physical now
while i tried to sleep beneath the night
and dream you were somewhere between these places
waiting for me to find my way to where you were

but that's just a romantic thought
which means naught  
until our eyes meet
and your presence is skin on skin

i awoke in the early afternoon
and was reminded of the need to bathe;
odors and oils of a slothful human.

i shaved with a dry old razor
so that i could feel each blade-like tug
and slice the shafts of time that grow from my freckled face

i ran the shower warm before entering
because lately i am a cold stone
and do not contain any independent means of heat

i laid myself beneath the running water like warming raindrops
and heard some loud but distant music
as my thoughts raced above their melancholy sound

my thoughts were noble and ignorant; dualistic.
concerned with the world and my impact upon it.
refusing to buy a car, refusing deodorant and plastic products

i found myself hopeful for once
warm and joyous
as the water wasted itself past my skin and down the drain.

then I remembered that each passing drop equals a single footstep
which builds to the distance required
for others to gather a quarter of my waste.

back to square one
slothful and smelly
needing so dearly to wake.

our nature; nature,
mining its rivers
and agricultural cooperatives.
living from day to day,
moved on,
becoming refugees once more.