Morning light breathes
life into every flower,

reflecting odd geometries
that follow me hour to hour.

Between each step scattered
on the coniferous ground,

are my dreams, forgotten
inside a still, dark pond.

Searching noon for new eyes
is the easiest task, I feel,

when one forgets what isn’t real.

And as I kneel at dusk,
with pockets full of daylight,

uncertainty shields me
from the river trailing behind.

A devouring gush of blue moves
inside the chest of twilight,

and all that I hold dissolves
into a thousand new eyes;

and all that I fear becomes
what brings the night alive.

I am a fool to think
I ever walked alone,

for you are everywhere—
and you are here, too.

Only a certain eye lets me sleep;
and one remains open

to another rapturous beginning.
In these blue veins, a wild sea

courses with a stream of stars
from each wound widening.

Something more real than I lives
in the abyss that pulls on all things,

and yet my soul glows brighter
when it is darker still.