there was a heron in the sky when i crossed the street this morning. ive never seen a heron so far from water, so far from home. i watched it gently, despite the people walking. i dont always break the unspoken in this manner, and although ive been more often lately, it still is not consistent, and so feels notable in this instance. of course there you were when you werent and lasting considerably though considering what is normal to me this was not notable.
but a heron was flying when i got off the bus today.

i felt as rested as ten with completed checks yet really i was running on a miracle three with more boxes than i could carry with my hurting wrist and hurting knees -

dear god,
will you hold me so softly with mercy in your palms,
will you tell me so delicately what you mean when you speak,
will you set me so lovingly to the floor when you must let me down,
for there will come the time for me to die.

at six fifty pm they turn off all the lights. and down the block sitting at the stop, at last a moment to catch up, and that is when i saw the second one that day.

dear heron,
will you fly again so starkly with your ever fervent beauty,
will you seek me out so blatantly though subtle as you have been guided,
will you return so frequently further, but not so much you disappear,
for i would love a heron to fly when my time has come to pass.

holding you feels like an inevitable. intangible yet legible. i dont check the clock when im waiting for the bus. it will arrive when it does and when it does i will get on it.

i saw two herons on tower street today.

there is a sort of divinity within the grip of pain
sustaining injuries like baptisms
have you ever seen the aching beauty of a bruise

they say purple is the color of royalty

and with a crown around my neck,
if my knees were god appointed monarchs
would you worship me

besito, besito
cuando no hay nada para mi nunca
y cada vez
yo sé, yo sé
pero por favor
déjame, déjame
déjame destrozar a mí mismo

me perdones -
hace uno año y aún...
lo siento
no puedo hacer esto
por siempre
pero por supuesto,
para ti, intentaré
eres todo
lo siento
lo siento
intentaré

lo siento
intentaré
déjame
por favor
te amo

there is such depth within his dark eyes
a depth so far when i reach out nothing touches
i will wait for the sound when i drop a rock
and i will sit there quietly for days
looking down his pupils
like sitting at a well without water without end
his image ripples at the edge and faintly i will notice
that it isnt him at all
that the rock will never land but always fall

viscous tears thick with love
a beauty so deep it bruises
transcendent and divine
the fire's release calling gently
caught entranced by the flames of immolation
heavy and profound
burning in your gaze

inexplicably unavoidable
please be kind to me for i am not strong
although i know you are unable
and by that i mean that you refuse
im sorry youre not someone else
im sorry you are you

it will be a piecemeal process wont it
perhaps its just the way that i am feeling
i know tomorrow will be different (or will it?)
but that does not make this nothing

it is tempting to make the cut
is it worth it when its always proven wrong
but i am scared
will the damage mend
or perhaps should i say will i care

at what point is history enough
when do i decide to take the jump
and should i consider the climb down instead
and by climb i mean getting dashed against the cliffside
and by cliffside i mean the wooden box of ticket stubs
where i awake in tears because she said that it was normal
but this was not the first time
and by that i mean if i were to break the curfew
where would i go if not straight back to here

inaction is a choice
i hope i will not stand so paralyzed in spring
id like to think its simply winter frost come early
but dependency has cuffed me

the expanse found between solid bones
a cavity so fatal it makes me wonder should i even bother
is my energy better spent if i just let it die
or should i **** it faster
should i even try to stay alive