maybe I am just a bug collector
and I didn't find god in a lamp shop
I know that you are only here for a moment
but human nature pushes me to want more of you
I don't care if it's wrong
it almost doesn't matter if you don't want it
maybe you are just a bug I've found
to prove that I can live in ways
I would have never thought possible
someday
                     
it might make sense
and as much as I struggle to say it
I want you to know
that I love the way you are
your aura captures everyone
and I'm blessed to be able to breathe it in

I write songs
I don't sing them
your name is beautiful
I don't say it
your words invent new images in my mind
what you touch you destroy
my body sleeps on your boredom
I shouldn't say it
it reaks of love
but if there is no point
why run?
you talk of things undiscovered to me
your eyes are steady in my mind
to love you is unreachable
like climbing a mountain blind
I write songs
I don't sing them
your name is lovely
I don't say it

March and I was walking slowly
in between walls of decay
looking down at my hands I saw movement
the same as the decomposition of the displaced
organic material
had never felt so similar
to the crevices of skin on our
knees and elbows
I just wanted to be closer to her
to feel her warmth
there is a light that's not the moon
and as I circle my path
I find it in reflections that glow

a little part
of my heart
is back,
it never left,
i promise
now it's just here again,
so strong,
stronger than ever.
oh how i missed it.
and oh how
happy i am
to have it back,
thank you, universe,
i appreciate it
so much.
i wanted it back,
but i also needed it
to fade away so that i could
realize how much
i appreciate it,
how much i require it,
this little part
of my heart.

earlier on,
he had viewed the
seasonal flowers
as magnificent,
and gardens
as the most beautiful thing
in the world.

but when everything is grown,
the weeks stretch into months and
time is not
that of free will.

he and Emma had tea with
company around the globe.

distances will be among
the most difficult for me

but you need to do this
for me,
for you.

let love grow
let it bloom
let it expand, multiply,
and thrive.
you receive what you give.
so give a lot.
please, fan the flames
that burn the brightest.
you can be incredible
you can give and receive love.
but only if you let yourself.
prove that you can do and become
anything.
you can thrive in your own
asperations,
but only if you are
willing to work for it.
to work for one thing,
love.

observing is sheer pleasure;
writing is sheer pain.
but if we don't set down on paper
what we have observed,
how are we going to document
the miracle of life?

I write for a sense of security
in an obscure world
to walk in your shoes
is to accept your way of breathing
I pray for lunch
I pray to the moon
I watch you talk about dreaming
and I start to remember mine
in a few years will you have a solution?
or is living in this state the answer?

We create piles of books between us in bed
I want you back in my head
I travel seas
I find you again

To be in solitude is to be strong
To be in companionship is to be part of a whole
I get visions from moments that don't exist
I get poetry from deep corners of my pockets
We wake at 2:10 only to drink coffee at 6

I run backward to find where I went wrong
I ask the cards what my favorite color is then try again

I am holy with my visions and rough on the edges
I've stripped my femininity
only to find someone more forgiving beneath

Inspiration, muse, and black coffee all fit into the same category
we all need more sleep
we all try too hard
one day it will be easier to write your name on a city
but for now we fight for passion
and work for love

it is easy to play the wrong game

I'm jumping the turntable
pitching a cigarette sleeve
but my new lover doesn't smoke
he's  also from a boring town
but now I'm stuck in mine
no car no driving snowed inside my small den
Tuesday or maybe Wednesday
it doesn't matter
it never did
I'm still here in this little hole
running through loops flipping through photographs
I have been studying herbal and holistic remedies
but everything has a thick layer of white over it
the roots are too many layers deep
not a shovel nor your bare hands would work
its the coldest time of year
we are foreign to this place
and are too adapted to realize it

There are four pillars next to me
I wish I were as stable
I only see U's
The soft underbelly
Of a stable structure
U U U U U U U U
I have been floating lately
Between now and months to come
I don't know where home is but
I'm on the inside looking out
and there's only water and air
divided by a horizon
If my words can't be read clear
I don't know how to speak
Silk soft silk soft silk
I want to wrap you
soft silk
I don't speak anymore
but can you still sense me?
soft silk soft silk
U U U U U U
you make me feel unlike myself
you make me feel I am taking up space
instead
If I could
I would wrap U
soft silk

she got quiet, not that she wasn't before
eyelids closed
shiny rims
wet eyelashes
to convince:
"it's good that you are leaving"
I have trouble believing I've done this 6 times
she told me thank you
for not wanting to change her
even when she wanted to change herself

lost in the valley
I turn my camera on
the bottle is bone dry
so is she
I am a painter
I speak of images I've seen
I am a singer
but only on Tuesday nights
I am new here
and I prefer it that way
some days I take my profession seriously
and I dig deep holes
to fit ideas inside
to save for later
recently I've been noticing you
how you look out your window
and dig holes like I do
I think we could be friends
but you prefer to be alone
and I am starting to take my profession seriously

i swear i saw
all the water
in the world when
i saw you cry
for the first time

its been more than a day
yet it feels longer than that
re-thought
re-touched
re-done
everything still reminds me of you
and i know its bad
when the music doesn't help

build a house
with walls made of doors
that are always left open
invite everyone over
to have collaborative conversations
about wide open spaces

if i could explain the way you make me feel
i would have poetry dripping from my lips

but its not that simple
you are to complex to put on paper
if i could write you
it would be enough emotions to fill a book or 2

but ive tried
and im just so speechless

quiero ser importante a ti
quiero ser en la misma pagina
del mismo libro
quiero tu voz, tu vida
aparte de mi, las arboles siento lo mismo
she said she wants our roots to touch
she thinks they would twine nicely
the star stayed above her head
as she pressed forward so did the emblem
she felt the distance
along with the truth
confronted at a meeting with the obstacle inside

~ I want to be important to you~

as he loves his favorite rock
he cares for her
eyes as deep as Japanese beetles
her hands cold
trace a crack on amethyst
muddy and diagonal
rain for the slug jars open on the terrace
they sit low on the ground floor
with bugs and the better part of building shade
he wants to break her open
as if the rock is a geode
and the crack is the clue
but her weight runs smooth over jagged tools
and no force of his hands could change something permanent
no stone is the same
they slip and prefer the bottom of the river
then to the eyes of a collector

you still have every reason to be satisfied