I long
                    like
something plush weeping
         into a pillowed hug

of empty oxygen

though I try the Brave Game,
                                         (and usually win)
               flakes of me run
           off my arms and face
and scrounge around the corners of the room
          
                                                           looking for your mellow sting.

supposedly,
“heartache”
is figurative.
                        But I definitely feel
a              s t r e t c h i n g
mush
right where
the Doctors say my heart
                       should probably be

a slight tremor
(      echoes      )
      through every joint
of my toy frame,
              like a thousand elfin voices talking
                      about your favorite foods,
                      and the color of your hugs.

    the tightening
muscles of my throat
        send their regards to your
amicable eyes

              2.5 is a smallish bird
when one observes
             the blue expanse of my ocean life
but it pecks my most tender tissues
                     when I sit [flat] inside Today.

I miss
      like
someone resized my skin

                                            incompetently.

though I am grateful
for your delicate absence
                      (the elusive Good deserves you most)

I feel as if
the petty bird’s wing tensions
        won’t be satisfied
with the look of my dappled shoulders
till you stroke them densely
with your matter-of-fact fingers.

You stepped
Deep into
  The waters
   Of my soul

Patiently you searched
For the precious
     Stone

You found it
Warmed it
  Caressed it
And gave it
  To me
Unselfishly
  As a gift

And now
  It is ours
    And we call it
        Love

A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace

I was in love with anatomy
the symmetry of my body
poised for flight,
the heights it would take
over parents, lovers, a keen
riding over truth and detail.
I thought growing up would be
this rising from everything
old and earthly,
not these faltering steps out the door
every day, then back again.

it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when(being fool to fancy)i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

—turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

i have found what you are like
the rain,

            (Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light
                                  with thinned

newfragile yellows

                      lurch and.press

—in the woods
                      which
                              stutter
                                        and

                                              sing
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
                  your kiss