Sitting in the dark
I find it
Refreshingly quiet, yet
I know I'm addicted to clouding my mind and I know
I'll soon flood the empty blackness with
Artificial light and cacophony because
One moment too long in this tranquil blankness
And I know
Tonight's thoughts alone will
For weeks postpone
Any ideas I may have had of repose.
I berate myself with distraction to
Save myself facing the
Piles of of withdrawn responsibility that
Shadow the tiers of my
Sparking brain -
My itching imagination runs its knees into the
Unkempt piles, looking for a door to the outside -
I'm often
Sorry that I leave so much for tomorrow -
When I finally wake it is often to
Soft shadows cast across my room
From things I left about
By an early blue light
That reveals what I've avoided with a sly smile
And writes the day for me.

I see myself as dead.
When I scroll through all the pictures,
I see myself as though I've passed on -
A eulogy for every smiling image,
A remembrance for missing moments.
When I see myself, I am frozen in a sweet story
And it's as though it is lost forever
And I mourn each passing memory, maybe
Because those moments are surely gone, or
I am simply not a positive person, still
I know I must
Let go of happy memories and
Appreciate present glories...
Though,
I feel that I lose myself throughout time
As I create new entities
That dance most well with given moments, then
Let them dance away,
For they are only suited for one another -
A version of myself and a single moment unmatched,
Not meant for anywhere else or any other time.

It is as though
I am looking at photographs from these past dances
And seeing a life that is no longer
And it's a part of my own.

Why did I let that song play?
I know somewhere I need to feel it -
To swim knowing of the riptides, sometimes
Allowing oneself to be overcome
                    by soaked wet weight,
                    that heavy longing
I feel you wander around my mind
Like the paths of falling stars across one's eyes
Complete spontaneity, uncontrollable
And voraciously burning
I conceited its existence
                    unknowing of its hunger -
That deep, dark, perceivable pang it has to fill,
                    devours
Fields of grass, textured skies,
Hills that roll away
The sun sets with a sigh -
These feelings settle like dust all over,
Thick enough to seed, I sprout
Tiny dandelion weeds and
Strew fuzzy daydreams all over.

I have found myself beneath
Rocks turned up away from me,
And
I have found myself behind the door
             home alone
And
I have found myself beneath unfolded
Laundry in the basket,
             eyes squinted, keeping warm.

I have found myself in smaller forms -

Between book covers,
A grey dust exhumes at the turn of
             each its leaves,
Just as I have nestled away
             former inspirations -
Now as I
Open them up the
Fine powder fills my eyes, a dreamy
Lense reveals the dark skyward chasm
And its endless fires.

If only I knew how to reach them,
My old flames and I could reminisce
And I could
Close and put away all the stories
I never finished.

Now in this season
It smells like sweet honey nectar,
Thick, warm pollen that heavies the air, that
Overarching succulent sweetness I can
Never find. I'm nearly
Dreaming in the midst of day,
Lack of sleep sharpens this
Feeling of loss that doesn't coincide with
The growth around me - My mind
Is falling back a quarter year, another,
Chilled over somehow in direct sunlight -

                    My hunger could be assayed with
                    Those honeyed towers somewhere blooming, but
                    I've not been told where to find them -

Stumbling along with aching limbs and
Exhausted heart, forced anxious smile,
Can't seem to find these supposed fruits
That hang down at reach, give way to new days -
Just quiet, vacant preludes
Along all these miles of solitude.

Some changes happen too quickly
To observe with the eye -
Some fractures flex so fast one wonders
    where they came from, suddenly
Water is leaking in,
The mind floods, you didn't intend
To let things get so dismayed.

Some changes happen so slowly
They can only be noticed in retrospect,
Collapsing each frame into immediate adjacency,
Only later appreciating each movement and change,
Trying hard to reckon all the time that has passed,
Suddenly sick with your inability to recollect -
Where did each minute go? What did
    each moment try to say when
    you weren't listening?
They eventually wrote you a note and left -
    no phone number to call, no address to follow -
But it isn't your fault you couldn't see
Each changing thing, each slow tear, every
    wear and stretch,
Most aren't even our doing, most things
We don't expect to break, but everything
    degrades,
Day after day, eventually, in
Reviewing each crease it's obvious
How things have folded and bent
Again and again, but only after
The lines are permanent.

Should I mourn for you?
If you're not really gone, that is.
I give thoughts of you enough of me as it is, it takes
A lot of energy to remember you like this, it
Takes a lot of my time away, frankly.
I could be weightless -
Lifted by flowers, yes, that light,
That unburdened, I could
Make no noise at all walking
Over dried leaves and branches, yes,
I could be that relieved.
I feel that this staying power the winter has is
My fault, my doing from these
Recurring cold thoughts, I make it
Snow in my own garden,
Having to dust off all my plants and fruits and
Regrow and regrow after my own
Bad weather disrupts things.
I could be barefoot looking for shells and glass to
Use to build my nest, could be
Learning the quiet language of snails, to know
Why they leave their trails, could be
Getting golden from the sun -
Knots come undone,
Letting you go in increments of weight -
Can't all at once or I'll float away,
Just slow enough to learn to walk again.