When you opened
the poem
i wrote for you
did you see
my heart fall out

unreality
such a part
of
reality
how can it be
unreal

Did you tell them they were from a mystery man? His heart is all
locked up, no one finds entry there. 'Coz he says, there are broken
shards there that you'll step on. There anyone who enters will see
a hundred broken pieces of themselves, soon as the lights are on.
So he keeps it shut, and he's a mystery man. You'll never know
enough of him. He's just made like that, elusive, elusive. Nights,
he's awake to some unknowable pain. He just cannot bring his
thoughts to cease for a moment. Bats rush out off hidden corners
sinking into shadows as owls keep watch. He dreads deepening
nights and shrinks worn from twilight. He curls up hugging some
silken knots that sew his broken soul, your elusive, elusive man.

a large tree I've hacked limbs from
is staring back at me
through a window
from those wounds
they look like
eyes
and weeping wounded mouth

Sun hits the mountains like
The colors of iced-tea-pink-lemonade
Rejected by rocky faces and
The charcoal remains of once-majestic pines
Rays cross in the sky as the valley drinks down the last
Sip or two of the iced-tea-sunset