I write to you
Because my brain is not withering

It is growing,
Grooving pits out of neurons
And overtaking blooming

When you take your physical
Out of the sun, you think, I am safe now
Hours later you are bubbling, red, thirsty

I took off
Tied a string from my pinky to your mailbox
It is something people do

I am sitting, looking at an orchid
Seeing the walls of your home, your mouths
My innards that I thought were excavated

I am having difficulty finding comfort
I am having difficulty seeing beauty
I am having difficulty

I think you put it here
In the house, or me, or the string
I drag it

I want you to take it back
Box it up
Swallow it

Hand me back sorry
Hand me back history-less handbook
Give me a hand altering this

Write me back, please
Tell me I was mistaken

there is something small going on here. something large. a revolution. a one link, one point, one dot burst. there is us. a learning of love. this is not minuscule. this does not barrel forth on a diet of mindlessness. there is engagement. there are histories colliding. there is spackle. there is grout. there are narratives. there is a riot. there is rage. 4 hands, feet, kneecaps, hips, cheeks, lips, eyes, ears. there is wanting to slam 4 fists on table. there is eye contact that is melting long frozen. there are times when there is only 1. 1 giant. 1 strength heavy, spilling heartiness, settled creature. there is 1 detailed single fluid specimen. this is the power.

your head is always in front of mine
you are the view blocking the moon
i feel my knees unlocking, spine unclenching
to dive into the cycles of your hair

before
i was intimate with all
i had lovers in bean sprouts, molluscks, damp winds
my days were humid with things I could see

i woke this morning under a red pillow
an arm heavy just below rib cage
a leg strewn across unlocked knee caps
i decided not to gasp

rather, i did not know how to gasp
carbon, in every single element
somehow
i am screaming at you for hiding

how did i get here?

I am scrambled
First opaque and next blunt
Made up of sometimes overlapping squares
I am an overturned river running
With a barrel of guts in my arms
I am not cognizant of rythyms
I am sloshing
When it comes up I either
Balloon into red future or
Narrow into cool stagnancy
There is not a choice to be made
But my hands are gripping at weights
I am leaning
I don't really want the moths back
But something is inevitable
At least then I will open my eyes
With a sliver of certainty
Whether this is cave or wing
I want its replacement

close. displaced.
not intended for proximity.
scented. touch like
lambs ear plants.
and. here.
how do you know my song?
not bone. not *****.
not book. not elder.
ear and ask.
sponged floor. gate.
latch. four feet.
looped finger print.
stones shrinking in size.
eyes. eyes. eyes.
table. water. sky.
avoid, retreat, return.
a new herb. taste.
how do i mix you in?
not pattern. not copy.
not stamp. not then.
salt air. tomatoes.
earth. bare feet.
i want
and i do
i think
want
but too and clock
my head and pillow
crechendos,
no not harmony, now
hands brace, i
    think you
you you you you you you you
i want
    not you
but you
   not want
but to
know every ridge
nerve, ending
   before handle turns
planted, on roof
you grow, maybe
                                i fall.

i am staring down a tunnel
at our hands
they are sealed, shelled shut together
they are sliding
they are apart
there are pearls for us both
they are breathing, not ripping

you are a love that i didn't ask for
you are too
you teeter me into sadness
you are a light i soak into my skin
i am only waiting for cloaking
i am only waiting for pale
if you were half
if you were yeast poured by a skimpy hand
i would open up like a tarp in wind
i would flow and snap, not be so territorial
you prove
i am silent
i can't throw my weight aside and dance
i have things to admire
my mother pushes me to you
does she know I won't come back?
i will stick my skull
into your chest and make a fort
i will hide and call it protection
i will become a brick