Some recoil at the scars,
some wish to know how you received them.

Uphill grinning
spinning webbed-breaths under
Spring's spilling through
rows of roses, tied behind
vines that could rip anyone red
are all the
quiet notes about pretty

& what a Sunday for sailing
blossoms through drying hair and
fickle feelings about an old poem
on a blanket, how fitting

but i'm trying;
i still find rhymes under
fir trees and still get
tired from laughing

i still ask why without crying
denying only while smiling.
this is 29 in a wine glass

stretching the afternoon like my
legs in the morning
pouring out yesterday's moaning
& sure as every bird i'll be
a blinking throat
counting her money

but for now i'm just
two hands
taking an orange home
for it's honey

that slow blink never helped you (y'know)
and thanks but
my voice sounds the same, still
i can't count on
whatever rule about numbers you used
it is useless

and even
a forest of poets couldn't dig it up
or a ship, full of it
i'd swim under the mad waves
away from them

so, by my bones i speak
every language i need
finding more that
love is like a field
kept by wild things
as open as a child's eyes
with
all of this room to
keep growing

I've been sinking in the space
Between the both of you
An oblivion I'm drowning in
The jealousy of all I knew
I've come to lick the dirt
And drink the salt like water
Only to find myself more dry
Like the desert in July
I want to live everything
That you have told me
Yet my mind screams death
In every silent moment I receive
I hope to float ashore
Where your words have lingered
And came to life like Jesus
Yet my stubborn soul fights
While it beats me to the ground
I'm a wolf escaping the pack
Howling at the red moon
As salted tears burn my flesh
I miss you with all my spirit
As my thoughts burn like cigarettes
Temporary and relieving
But killing me peacefully
Until the end of the times
When my body fails and my heart
It seizes to beat like the drum
Of which it once had done
And I'm just the null that haunts
Every bit of what I can endure
I long for the days in your arms
Those soft spoken words
That put to rest all these demons
And quench the life that thirst
For the truth you've always spoken