Ive 'nunquam magis sentiuntur solus* is Latin for
                                 I've never felt more alone.

I only learned Latin because
For some reason, I think that if I say things in the root of most languages,
I'll find most of the roots to these feelings.
But... Cogitationes strangulatus.
It's funny. Saying "thoughts stifle" in latin, merely sounds like cognitive strangles.
                                Not that it's any different, really.
It just sounds so much more like what I want it to be.
The English language has a hard time
Catching the depth of things
without sounding like it's trying too hard.
I want to be able to say something once, just once,
and be done with it.
To stop ruminating on you and find peace knowing that when I say
Reliquum aliud nihil est dicere
I don't just mean "there's nothing left to say."
I mean that *I've said everything I needed to say.

comprehending it for the first time, struck
numb and wretched. uncomprehending
shivers rib joy with age--
agendas churn
even as a salty dryness barely clears--
eyes contort in livid forms of love

vacant carols fail to mute calamity,
though once a bluebird sang at snow
abstracted from the core-- fly away
from a season's playlist monoculture,
reinvent this home, audacious now
to be a courage happiness
for youthful eyes no longer simply young

My heart rests on my lungs all the time
settles into my lung.

Laying on my side thinking
left side brain thoughts
until I turn over and find you.
And then there you’re curled up nestled in the right side

I remember a feeling from a dream I had. I swell a little bit.
Turn onto my stomach and it all moves, a white wave to the frontal lobe.
Then there I’m wading through you, putting my fingers into dopamine tide pools,
widest eyes in clandestine memories.

Watching you laugh with the biggest part of the sky caught in the curve of your mouth
lurching when the world froze that way forever for a second.
Wanting you to stay as long as I’m there.

Conjuring you and your little evening glow,
because
I need company.

no last words--
     i open her blank eyes
     dry of tears

my first loves
transformed what 'beauty' and 'perfect'
meant to me, and looking back
i see some other meanings
to the imperfection-
perFected i proclaimed;
concupiscent nerves from icy  stutter flutter/stop/and start
to overvast before- and after-glowing liquidy, salacious insatiateness--
to coughing up to concrete luck
or reigning fates between the legs
and then the sob galactic spin of adoration-letting-go
even when in full embrace
from many imperfections always there,
                                                        'perfect­' grew -- astounded me
beyond imagination's bounds--
and i still say amid the memories,
((mistakes and hurts and flaws
i held close then)):
i found in her,and her, and her perfection fullness all and nothing left--
sincerely told her so,
demanding in a tongue perhaps akin
one love there,one love, one more another one in oneness found in one
an understanding of a 'summun bonum' love returning yet just found at last the first.
and then, to see grandma!!
elope away at 86 to marry on impromptu cruise!!
i saw a childlikeness there as she returned,
youthful once again a flame adventure shocking all her young,
to spring her step beyond her offspring
despite the flaws become apparent it was perfect watching them
(with that same man she'd passed up for another at 18)
dance into a twilight swoon of giggles envied by the moon..
finer acrobatics of the heart
to tie the strings of self with other knotted self
together form and net cocoons for loving evolution's end
in learning how again to change into the deeper love of flaws which strengthen us as well to bonding into
this
all too perfect, imperfect endless bliss








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