then stand      off
your heel ball & kiss
her you fool.    don't
be                don't be

don't just be             .

dear you

it'll probably take this a long long time to reach you but isn't that just the idea? nothing is consistent here - moments bend & weave so it feels like each blink takes a lifetime. yesterday a thought took four months to form and i almost used it without thinking.

i'm stretched out on the grass now & i'd love to explain how anyone meets anyone at all. is love some long blue thread bringing them together? i've seen what people do with it - sure they make it into something pretty but it isn't what it's there for. are we wrong to see the long beams of light and only take a photo? is a lick of heat for more than making a cup of tea?

i tried to explain a concept like us to a bumblebee but i didn't really get anywhere. i said "wouldn't you like something like a portal? you could be at the next flower before you know it." i said portal instead of a wormhole because i knew bees didn't understand physics but he buzzed off anyway. i suppose the fun might be in the looking & finding but i've been given flowers before & it sure as hell meant more than picking one myself. maybe he was just happy with what he'd already found.

now i see magpies everywhere but they can't all be you right? i've always thought they were but maybe i'm just too ******* in my long blue thread. i suppose that's human though - i've just always valued the idea of tying something tangible to a concept that isn't really bound by atoms. the idea that this is all meant to be you know?

if you look hard enough you'll see them everywhere. they stick with you like the bluegreen shadow of the sun. sometimes all it takes is one & the thought that everything has to mean something. that's it though - i guess if it were real then you'd be here by now. maybe if you wait long enough you'll miss your chance. maybe if i look long enough a magpie is just a magpie.

p.s.

on the walk here i crossed a bridge - it wasn't celestial or anything but it was high enough off the ground to wonder if i stepped off how much of a joke i could get out my mouth before i hit the clouds. i couldn't really shake that feeling of bending & weaving after that. funny isn't it.

write soon

the living in shoes

make us all so
thoughtful&bright

make us see
god in the wall
under footfall of

tenebrescence

light stamping
its pinhole feet

is god is
our god &
my god too.

run along           the fibre
sticks to your shoes
like grass            the idea
fills your head like
chlorophyll

so i'm greeneyed, but do
you blame the sequoia
(obsequious, maybe)
for the redwoody
want for water?

i think of your back

& mine, like the in
                              side
ofaspoon

oh yours!

not quite so concave
                             but
a soft&flexing blade

regaled with silver.

the hot-fingered taunt
of a name picked up my
stomach in its safe
hands; knucklecracked, they boot
-ed it down the corridor...

do you remember
the sweetgrass scent?
i rolled from there down
the stairs of patience
to here, blind fear,

where clocks tick
an arpeggio of angel
texts; numbers repeating
until they desync -
your 11:12s. 13s. 14s.

there's no more walking
in polyrhythms; there's no
slide to Her. i have my own
two hot fingers and some
paper i will tear like hell.

truer blues have faded
faster than today - but
all i can think of is you.

recall the petrichor of
the porcelain rain, breathe
& let it ring down your
spine. one day you will

be more okay than you're
ever going to be. sleep
then, between the china,
and dream of bluebells.

rang around
in some exo
skeletal way.

even the gardens
of carbon, the cilia
lilies, don't rebuff
the sound of Him.

some days hang from a crack in my wall;
a wonky concept of 'clockwise' befalls
my feet as i trawl from one to five
everything feels right until you go left:
i feel more alive post daylight theft

so press me to the concrete 'til i feel thin
spots in time where tomorrow begins
to trim epiphanies from a beehive:
you're honey in the stamen; taste unmade,
just cure to thrive in time, decayed