it's not like i ain't
been South
before.
more like i can't see
the stars
anymore.
More like a thing
i used to love
has locked
the One
door.
and left me
Out -
with all my
heart
pounding
amore.

or less
.
adrift on a sea of foam
near the rocks, flecked with bones
and private diaries...
with tiny keys
to huge locks
and the wreckage
of wayward souls
dashed against the lichen
and the lint from black fleece...
bobbing in the riptide
of a sand dune.

swallowed whole by the question
at the heart of my demise
and the sorrow
in a sunbeam
when it looks me
in the eye.

and weeps.