"This is nothing," she says (like nothing is the touch of her lips or kisses of freckles or anything she says with her eyes that I'll miss when she turns away).

"It never was anything," I say (like never is the day I first met her and was swept under the current under the water under the sheets under her skin)

So we go now (so it goes, going, gone) our separate ways-
In a parking lot at midnight (asphalt gravestones and keys in our hands and does it say something about us (about me) that we're safer walking home alone in the dark than we ever were with inches between our hands).

No one ever told us we shouldn't try to make ourselves two of a kind but it's too late now (we meshed the parts that hurt and the buzzing of the streetlights reminds me of her and the way she looked at 2am when I first realized that she no longer made me smile)

Well you know boy, if you play the earth in a game of loaded dice you'll find out real quick that it don't roll so great on empty gravel with all them melting icecaps shiftin' the balance.

And you know girl, the dealer's gonna say "Your loss, my gain," and give the ****** dice right back to you, melting poles and all. "Try a stretch of universe full of cheaper stars if you wanna get rid of that ****."

And kid you'll take that dice and pay the price because all the guns they say they have ain't gonna stop the world from goin' bad real fast as that dealer smirks and says "Not much time left 'till it's gone. Not much time at all."

He took the ribbon and let it fall down with the water, thundering along the current into a cove that his veins couldn't reach, burrowing into the salt-laden cracks. There's sugar in the edges of your fabric darling but that doesn't mean you'll ever mesh with the night sky, no matter how high you climb on your ladder made of UV Light or birthday candles (it falls to pieces beneath you either way). I remember the way he used to write letters because it's scratched into the desk beneath my forty-two empty notebooks, simmering in the silence.

I sit on the floor to write the ends of words because that feels more like making a home.

Did you know (you always know) that once upon a time I was made of pixie dust and dragon fire and lonely midnights with ghosts on the rooftops. Did you know (I don't think you do) that I'm afraid I no longer know how to get lost in that place, that I am an erosion, so prone to cuts on my wrists and bruises under my eyes that I'm no longer worthy enough to fit there.

It hurts not to tell them so but it hurts them to know so. Do you see, do you see? There's a mirror that says she does but my vision's unreliable (so they say so they say. I lost my glasses again).

My, but I missed the ache in my knees that speaks of too many nights spent lying awake doing everything. They hurt more now that I'm doing it (everything) to avoid nothing (nothing at all) think nothing of me thinking of you because if you knew, it would never be the same and I never want to miss you more than I already do so it's nothing. I promise, I promise, I always promise.

He stood at the edge of the falls for the longest time, and nothing happened but the rising sun and whispers from the druids bending their trees. They wanted to walk away away away but roots are hard to break once you no longer hate the soil. Then he took the ribbon and drew it back up again, frayed and wet and (not the same) said "Go back to who I wanted you to be. This isn't what I created."

(No, you held the end of it all. The current did the rest.)

The old man chip chip chipped away at the star, orange peel shavings pooling 'round his feet like molasses. He looked at me and sighed out ******, drifting towards me through a wall of undecided fruit trees. "Sometimes," his hair murmured at me, "you learn that gray's the only color." He paused. And paused further. And the not-pause became silence.

I picked at the Stairway to Heaven with my eyes till it turned black and blue. "What about your fireworks then?"

He cut himself on the chipping knife and the not-pause was more. "Other times," he disjointed, hand dripping copper taste in with the orange slices, "We paint over the gray and forget."

I lit the fuse and blew up the sky, streaking it with sparks of gold. The clouds smell like molasses and rain and all I can see is gray.

Dark floats out into the silence
Crashing on the banks of Prometheus's wings
Opening a velvet-silk curtain.
To a fabric of shadowed stars
Cloudy fingers sew it clean
While invisible hands stitch pearls back in.
A ghost flits on the hallway stair
Reaching for the last shafts of sun
Tumbling off a silent dream
Blind as black with a lullaby hum
Filling the gaps in an empty line
Somewhere between dusk and dawn.

The Earth
is one big ball of twine
Every person has a piece of string lacing up their leg, like ballet slippers that you can walk on
You don’t dance through life on pedestrian slippers
There’s no form of tap, jazz, or hip-hop that’ll keep you from knotting your threads with mine
So as you sit in a cafe in Paris
sipping limonade and watching the river of people on the Champs-Elysees
You’ll pretend you don’t feel a tug on your ankle
from that the little fille in Hong Kong who got an A on her test
the teenager kneeling down to rest a rose on the cross with a Jewish étoile
the old man letting out the sail as his bow skims la ocean
As you stand up from the cafe table let yourself be pulled into a dance
People these days
abuelo says
like people are spit off the tip of his tongue
People these days
always rushing to a place they don’t have to get to yet
Back in my day
in my dia
everything
was
just
slow
Back in your day abuelo
Back in your day
there weren’t seven billion people that had dance slippers made of twine
there weren’t so many playing cat’s cradle with their feet
People rush because they do have somewhere to go
Somewhere to be
obviously, that somewhere to be is not where they’re rushing to
obviously, they wouldn’t go where they’re being pulled
obviously, abuelo

So my abuelo can tap his feet to seven billion cats‘s cradles
As you scrape your feet along french pavestones in Paris
And the twine will knot and twist and make all of us dance
to the beat of the world instead of the beat of sound
because music is made using hands, not feet
and under your feet
there’ll be a ring ring ring
from an Earth made of twine
the best sort of telephones
were always the ones made of Campbell’s soup and string
and as the world goes to voicemail
you might tap answer with your feet
say a prayer-
miss you, please-
I’m sorry, I didn’t-
There’s no way-
What? I can’t-
On that off sort of chance
You pressed answer
and all the messages come flooding in
Pressing answer is like cutting a wire
the electricity sparks and freezes
the caller is stuck
Your answer is like trying to speak over a jet engine to someone underwater
Silence is the loudest muffler for anyone who
Doesn’t want to hear it-
You just don’t understand-
I can’t believe you!-
Wrong, you’re wrong-
Someone else hears a ring from their soup-can-and-twine
You let your’s drop down and tangle with ballet shoes made for walking

Humans are alive for one hundred years
People only live for eighty or so
From when you were a little baby, you’ve felt the beat of a thousand hearts
The breath of a thousand dreams
The spark of a thousand smiles
Through the ribbons of twine that wound up your ankles
But the older you get
The more you fray
And it shows in bruised eyes, callused fingers, wintered hair
That you’ve been walking for as many days as the earth is wide
Collected enough footprints to feed a soul on stories
And when you die
mourir
pethaíno̱
umierać
Death cuts your string with his blunt-honed scythe
Your voice goes from the twine that twisted up your ankles
To the crystallized light that filters in between the leaves of trees
The crackle of firewood on a misty evening
The waves that slip on shell-laden sand
You won’t move so much as whisper
Talk so much as laugh
Be so much as exist
The earth is a ball of twine
We all walk in pedestrian ballet slippers
Die into beauty that we’d never thought we’d flow to
Never going where we need to or where we want to be
Your string is caught up in a thousand others
Twisted with mis-steps and calls made over soup cans
We are a thousand beats off rhythm in melody
A thousand stories in tugs and sound


Welcome to Earth
A world of 7 billion connections
Silence instead of answers
Once thousand languages to say seven billion stories
french pavestones in Paris
abuelos who step in rhythm
Dead who live in warmth
Welcome to earth
Population: twined

Thank you so much for the memories,
those moments of pleasure-pain
when I meet
someone with your name
or think in the split-second before reality sets in
that I saw you walking towards me.

Thank you for the little trinkets
that I'll pack away in moving boxes
and
marvel anew when they surface,
all the way across the continent.

Thank you, all of you, my friends
and family -
in soul, if not in blood.

You knew me and I knew you,
and it was fantastic.
We sat together rolling dice,
or showing each other songs that made us think, "I thought of you!",
or just talking,
or eating,
like the wonderful,
mad,
insane human beings we all are.

I could never have asked for anything better.

(I tried to write letters but the words got stuck)

Milady all in white,
with sparking eyes and shaky foundations
the world is too big for your icy hands
reaching out for her smile like you were fire
and she was rain, heaven sent
you see ashes where there’s mist
wings splintering from your bones
and I pray that you find freedom
without leaving me

My fairy who dreams of Neverland,
with leaves in tangled hair
eyes crinkled with smiling
you are so very powerful
I fear you would rather consume yourself
than let go of her at last
and from all the things you don’t tell me
I begin to hate the world a little more

My pixie with straight curls,
I was in love with you for the longest time
but I know both myself and you better now
and I will always stand beside you
your  beauty is in your imperfections
drawing the best sort of people in
you’ve saved me a thousand times
and I've missed you more than I can say

My quiet one with a smile of steel,
you are so kind without saying a world
he leans so much that I’m afraid you will fall
and still have to pick him up again
I only hope you know your worth
I only hope that you’ll let us catch you
you are a beautiful human being
and you mean the universe to me

Milady with a bow-tie,  
your mind is a brilliant, vibrant thing
as are your eyes and smile and laughter
you are a warrior and a scholar
a charmer, a singer, and a lover
you've made me feel loved and wanted
without hesitance of any kind
and it is the best gift I have ever been given
so thank you for slow dancing to an off-beat piano
I'll always love for you to lead

Milady of dragon's fire,
you are fiercer than your flames
and stronger than them as well
you are learning and beginning
and I can only watch in awe
I believe in every part of you
in your beauty and your strength
so thank you for not taking ****
and may the world quit giving **** to you

Milady of the angels,
you have the brightest soul I've ever seen
and a mithril backbone to match
thank you for helping me be myself again
for shining brightly and staying with me
you deserve all the best the world can give
for your beauty and grace and laughter
I would give my soul to see you smiling always

My lady of the wiccan elves,
you are the loveliest being that I know
both in body and in spirit
I'm sorry that I did not tell you so
I'm a bit of a coward that way
you are a thousand miles out of my league
but I will always marvel at your crooked grin
and the way your mind runs circles 'round all others

Milady the endless ponderer,
I am not half the friend I should be
your thoughts are beautiful, have always been
and it lights my heart to hear your confidence
I will always listen and try to understand
though I am not always as there as I should be
and for that I am truly sorry
I know that for the philosopher
it is the greatest punishment to be unheard
you deserve the best of listeners

My quiet greek goddess,
you somehow thought I was worth staying for
I would have kissed you given the chance
but we all know how I am about that sort of thing
you made me feel at home again
when I felt like I wasn't worth existing
thank you, for everything
I'm sorry I wasn't the right one

My legend in royal hues,
for some reason you picked me to love
(you can't imagine my bewilderment)
thank you, for all you've given me
for all you've let me show you
and for your smile that reminds me of home
I hope you find what you're looking for
without falling to ******* your way


Milady of the summer court,
all wide eyes and lovely braids
you made me feel wanted and infinitely happy
but I will never be enough for you
may your mind always wander into beauty
and may you someday learn the workings of souls
come back and tell me when you do
I will always love to hear your voice

Milady of love and loss,
I hope your list helps organize your mind
you deserve the best of happiness
but I fear you'll look towards the wrong eyes
I'm going to miss you dearly
but I know you'll find your own way
you don't need me much at all
but you make me smile when I'm beside you
so don't you ever lose that light
you'll find one to match it someday

Milady the beautiful and free,
you are fiercely kind and lovely
I look up to you more than I can say
in your strength and in your thoughts
thank you for your words
for your smile and your love
you brought me back from myself
and I will always be grateful
may everyone marvel at your existence
and at how far you've come
it is, after all
the very least of what you deserve