i can't help but
create out of deliberate obsolescence
with whatever is fatigued and mottled with rust
inside any bygone ruin that fascinates and grips me
and most of all
within the spectra of shadows of your own deepened condition
that gilded edge wane that has never failed
to enthrall and inspire

i could never love a soul until its natural patina arrived

                     ..i can race a worm to the green apple core
                     eat the worm too
                     everything now is beyond ripe
                     exposing what's left beautiful in the spoil
                     ..and neither is there harm in burning
                     this paper mobius strip
                     you've just given me
your name written on the inside coil
mine on the outside
two plumes of smoke folding between us
a  frail thinning wisp caught up in the gentle updraft
columns rising into heaven turning inside a single spire
                              we won't last
                              but i can promise you
                              we will be just as forever
                              you and me
                              ...even as we are about to be reduced
                              to the final moments of our kindred ashes