we fall like ashes

from the sky

light and airy and dry

i fall like feathers

free from wings

and i couldn’t tell you why

cause my heart is heavy

and good things always die

but i see you on the other side

a dimly glowing light

and im a child

chasing fireflies

till the very dead of night

Touch me,
it doesn't matter where
and it doesnt matter how
I need to know I'm still alive
so someone touch me now
Shake my hand and say hello
or pat me on the back
kiss me on the cheek
that I may feel this sense I lack
slap my face and pull my hair
make me bleed I just don't care
dig your nails into my skin
so I can feed this need within
I've been numb for such a time
that even pain would be sublime
so touch me, touch me now
I don't care where, I don't care how

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

288

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!

How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one’s name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!

i want to believe i exist

beyond these four walls

the ceiling extends so high

there may not be one at all

and there’s a roundness to the edges

a shape to the corners 

and a light seeping through
all the cracks in its borders

and im drowning in a kiddy pool

i cannot keep afloat 

but i ran and i ran and i ran

to get off the boat

somewhere off the coast
of a place ive never been

and im too quick to call it home

for fear ill never begin



so ill scrub the windows of my new home

like there’s secrets beneath the glass

as if every circle adds a ring to the tree

as if everything’s built to last

I love the way
you grab my hand,
lovingly, tracing it like a palm reader
who wants a better future for me
than the one you see,
you gently caress my face
and let me rest
next to you
now.

On my morning walk home
I laughed at the scared squirrel
who ran out of habit
and not because I was going to hurt it
On my morning walk home
I laughed at my self
who ran out of fear
even though you will not hurt me.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands