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 held 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;
one remains open to slowly

recall where to begin; opal
veins that become like a wild sea

course with a stream of stars
from these wounds 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.