Traces of constellations written in freckles on your back
A laugh like Judaism and a touch like loneliness
Can only explain it in pictures of black and white images
like a chemical combustion in frail snapshots
tethered hands all  weathered and rough
Misspoken masterpieces communicated through touch
So hard to contain this sensation
I can't explain through anything tangible
A cloud that changes shape upon inspection
Spectacles, our honors
gleaming like a trophy that's hidden in a box
left alone to rust
Miscellaneous hands grasped to chasms
moving so quick and fast
There's no lines attached to those burdens or
bodies crisp gloves cover up
Stretched or crunched
hovering like a light
above storms in the town square
Overblown posters with checkers
faded colors in Spring
advertising bands
that I won't listen too, fabric I'll never feel
noises I'll never have to speak over
or turn down on radios
Artichoke hearts stabbed by the fork
held by an animator choking on the root
This is the inheritance of sound
of presences on stages or garages
These oiled gemstones
blurred behind faceless statuesque
pieces of cold stone

I told a crimson bird the secrets of the dawn
It bedecked the eyes of wayward wanderers
thrashing in the night
Diamond crested brews splashing on the lawn
capsules for the faint of heart
three morning glories
Vegas' spark, Vegas is dark
Emerald curtains to be ***** and forlorn
tethered at the seams In a half-worn tone
Drizzle on his cheeks; bruises on his knees
speaking French like a malnourished disease
Trotting across Bay Bridge In a blue jean dreg
tattoos of limericks and the horns of a stag
Reading tarot cards and tinkering with thugs
Passing around potions and drawing lady-bugs
Upside-down In chlorine pools
to beseech tea-leaves In Autumn
Where the weather is not warm
and the postmodernism creeps sullen
Caffeine infested speak
cooing cockatrices from the windowsill
telling all the neighborhood kids tales
that began as blank pages of dribble
In the alleyway they stumble
back to hotels of metal
carrying letters with water stains and ribbon

Trips to Shanghai taking photographs
of junks that were full of bones
Forgotten pixels stashed in the cover
of shade in the corner of the room
drawings in pastel paint brushed on the walls
You fell from the sky and crashed into my eye
I flew from the ground and landed in your thighs
Crucifix Sunday's and brunches in mobs
We drank the nectar of Pine trees
and redeemed our throbbed wrongs

Am I changing my mind
Am I thinking of the greater good
A vague being that's moving in motions
aware of my own dread and lack of purpose
It's like I'm dissolved and shapeless
I've always wanted to learn French
I want to go to Canada and
leave the American dream to contort
Sleepy all the time
My crystal ball's so cloudy
Shedding into nothingness
It's like I'm disappearing
I can't articulate my emotions
I can't tell what I'm feeling
I'm staring through myself
a black hole in the mirror
Every thought ending in periods
thinking in absolution's

And I will make believe and sit alone
Again and again regarding the silence as a song
Where do I, or you, remain; am I, or you, a memory
Faded persons in a picture from long ago
An insignia and dates on overgrown grass on gravestones
I'm becoming myself all at once
An infinite consciousness with faded recollections of its origins
Where was I conceived of first?
In the myriad galaxies and stardust
Within the chasms of whispers in another dimension
where time is as malleable as paper cranes
I make believe my purpose for waking up and sit alone
Some no-thing inside remains unknown
Forming itself like a wave in the sea
And the nothingness is watching me
Will I or you be immortal maybe?
Even after we are indifferent to one another
Even after flashes of yesterday disappear
In the grey dawn of today