Turn your dapple gray diffuse light daydream
Towards the flashlight painted cloudscape I have made for you
And before the drafted owl coos I have collected in bottles and hung from this tree
For you
I have walked through fine winged butterflies and soft twilit moss
Over sun scorched sand and in the relief of white noise water
Which
Like the circle of your arms
Tucks my dark away in the bottom of some drawer
That we may find and laugh over through our old eyes wrinkled with years of delight
Our home is walking through a stream
Steps slowed in the thickness of water

Everybody is dying in Haiti.
The girl has just come by.
I have not slept. In fact,
I’ve done some drinking.
She comes and asks me how
I am. I am okay I tell her.
She has a boyfriend now,
After she leaves, she tells me
this,
It’s not the first time she kept that close until sometime else.

We were talking for a while.
I wonder just when the earth
Decided to quake
Decided to ****,
To shake, to tremble, to rock
And somewhere I’m sure
We were being selfish,
And I was wanting her,
And she was telling me not to,
and not to
Look so close in her eyes, she knows well how I can see it all.

And somewhere still there
Was a little boy dying,
He will never kiss a girl,
Never wonder why eyes are
the color of skies: and dirt
and grass blades, I don’t know,
At least I get to venture
a Guess,
I bet it’s the same reason
I love the girl, I carry a torch, maybe it’s just for now, I hope so.