and then i realized that i was from the future.
and then i realized that we are all from the future.
and we all know whats about to happen next. but we think we are the only ones

so we keep it a secret from each other
and play along




-
and on the busride, an entire lifetimes worth of existence-  the rain hitting the window and actively listening to the screech of rubber against highway. dissecting the beautiful low rumble of different hums. falling asleep in the carpet covered seat with my hat puled down over my eyes. waiting to reach destination. waiting to be halfway home,

.

its amazing what bodies can be

from one moment to the next






























.

there are soft little pieces of forever shoved into the corners of your teeth
on the granite slabs of mountainous look-outs,
you sharpen
long walking sticks from boughs of fragrant juniper.
and forget to pass the small berries to the birds that like them

its been a long time

wicking out the passion from moments that will out live us.
and trying to understand the fine pulverized sand in the fissures:
spreading out like veins across boulders that support
the weight.
our bodies-
carefully outlining the places where silent embryos come apart,

dragging the backs of our fingernails across the green-grey stone with open palms
to catch the stardust we
think
tumbles out of the ether-

casting off all of my anger.  as i watch the tiny
flecks of destiny caught in the tips of your eyelashes as they close-
and the greatest tragedy of all,

as the blue becomes blue.
this (and only this)-
no one to share the view

you waded into me like aflame.
floating atop paper.

you flickered and danced as your sparks tickled the air above you

you sank into the river. as if there was nothing about you.

.wet as

long-sound
footsteps on the scuff of downturned sidewalks

estranging.
distance
.from us

as wrought iron bridges
meeken,

aching.
like a saxophone

.the
pin-patter

in time my dear,
the soft,whining sound of

hours
slipping
past your open palms and through your moist fingers

will cease to amaze.
or even feel the need to take in a breath for your presence-

.you look like rain and slow burning cigarettes
blank check. ink wash. arson-ette.

shutting the door on another night of angels-
and other fiery things

meant to complicate
us,  
here in this city of
children.

and its hot salmon glow, ripe as
swollen peaches ready to fall out of the sky
and into snarling haiku of roses

i am the water rising.
rushing over your body-
ready to
reanimate

and

you fell
and she sighed

and

he scarcely heard the turgid gasping
of his
muse