i hear electric guitars
and screaming and crying
and people being honest about death
and this is my tribe.

dancing in each others families
we make love to whoever we love.

our bodies arent boundaries
because we see right into eachother.

  we're lost in woods
and in one anothers escape
from a home we're unwilling
                                  to build.

time almost misses us
but creeps in through
the hair in our hands
that is longer when
we let eachother go.

we accept that we were never born
          and live as this requires.

we make shelters in our hearts for     
        everyone we've ever loved.

       a shelter where they come to
               eat  or  rest  or   die


and that is where
our songs are made
until our hair grows clear.

and when the sun forgets our name;

you see
an ancient people
in these woods

and you tell your lover
youve just seen a ghost.