a romance stronger than *** egos not
ever known just a sweet touch of afar and
birthdays and christmases
keeping in touch through the
long distance fog of so many years
she makes cakes I taste
by her descriptions
only
we fuss
like we live together
and we have never touched
I told her my secrets she absorbed
and I held her through some dark times
in absentia just my voice
she cried on my virtual shoulder
I loved her so many times
in my imagination
we have made love so many times
by words
that's my muse

not a treatise on isosceles
plain square rooted in geometry
is my theorem stating an argument
of x variable is nothing
without y
+1 equals the cosine
the hypotenuse approaches mathematical infinitesimal
precision logarithmic progression
360 degreeed
determines the variable
by feeling.

a treatise on compatibility this is theoretically
presented
by a linguist with limited trigonometry sense
   and since the heart beats and is 360 degrees
I sought out a tangent to measure her with
    or sine to figure out logically
whether we were compatible
             like functionally
on a straight line or tangentially
    perpendicularly
in degree and cosines or measurement mathematically
similar
then found no co-efficient to portray
her smile
fell out of my array
with nothing else
to equal
her.

Clouds wind floating
    into the trees tall climbing
spires and pillows
     blend
I lay down
     to take them in,
Feel the Earth revolve.
          feel the breeze.
Atmosphere.

Intense
once were the colors
of faded lines
a dark humor, a love, of
another poets spirit
a
salute
to those faded
lines
that transform me.

some believe in the deity
others in the sanctity of self
I think poetry is a religion
a soul unto itself
not a god
but close
and I seek her his its
calming words
wisdom
to get on my knees
and worship
every night
alone
here
in my sanctuary
like any
true believer

when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.