Big World

Our hands met in a mess of rust red. Pressing the clay into heart shapes as they reached into one and other for something to believe in. But our journey began before then, in fits and starts. In passing scenes of first act exposition. My wondering eyes and yours of gloss and experience on summer nights of velvet lines.

We would be forced together, it seems, by happenstance and wine, like a passing note on a harmonica that you hit just right for the first time. And we would become fluent in our own drunken language of 3 am metaphor and sadness.

So many times, my lips began the journey to yours before we crippled them with “what for’s”. But still we’d share winter constellations and whispers and moments so perfect. Me on my knees, drawing your portrait on the path with handfuls of sand.

Even half a world away, my drink still seemed to rearrange itself into letters spelling your name. And then you asked me.

If the world seemed smaller.

And my mind was.

And my hands followed suit.

And then my frame began it’s descent.

But my arms stayed the same length. Just long enough to hold you.

I’d written the answer on the inside of my forearms, so I could press them to your body when I held you.

And my own joy of words, that only you would understand, I scrawled on my palms to serve as affirmations to myself when I covered my eyes to see no evil. Words like:

Majestic.

Precise.

Serendipitous.

And these words sent their letters to my mouth, asserting themselves in phrases like:

It’s a big beautiful world.

It is a big beautiful world.

And still we dance around our imaginary fire of ‘not good enough for you’ like a binary star. Beautiful but incomplete.

So, I loosened my tongue with women and foresight and raced the blood from my eyes to my core and pealed back my layers, until I could find the answers written in God on the insides of your forearms.

And now I know the answer to your question about the big, beautiful world.

And I don’t mind telling you.

I.

Don’t.

Mind.

Strong, stunning woman with hands covered in soil from the roots of the world she tugs on…

It is in your stride. Leaving wakes of timelessness behind you.

You seldom see, dear one, that you are the world. Not the child. And if I ever stoop to lift you, it is only due to the mountain you’ve erected beneath me, so that I can always see you. Across any distance.

You are reserved for made up words.

The story of your life is written on pages of gold.

I breathe honestly into the wind in hopes that it will touch your face somehow far away.

Tonight, I write by moonlight. My fifth glass of port wine is by my side, turning my blood to something sweet. I have no time for less.

I would whisk you away with me, but you are where you need to be and I haven’t found that yet.

But if you ever want to go, I would take you and show you the whole strange world that I see now.

No, my heart.

The world looks bigger.

Her love is like a Minnesota river,
Still only on the surface, and only in the winter

My love is like a maple on the shore
That waits to be fed by your waters and constantly wants more

I don't need to tell you where or know whee you go,
You're gonna do what you do and be beautiful so,
Don't let me stop you,
Just flow river, flow

I know it's impossible to keep you dammed,
Your waters will swell to keep moving and I'll lose your hand

See you're made of water and slippery after all
But you're always there on the landing and soft when I fall

I wanna grow into your deltas, shade your shores, give you love,
My leaves fall in your waters, you surround and give the best hugs

I could never stop you, and I won't try any more,
I'm just a maple in the autumn waiting to wade into your shore

I'd kid myself thinking you're not a different river every day,
But at least I always get a new you before I have to let you flow away

But in a tiny little puddle in my roots you'll be remembered for a while
I know that I'm not as tall as I want yet, and you're not nearly the Nile

But still you'll flow to different places and I'll stay here the same
I'll always see you shining in the current and hope to feel you in the rain

Her love is like a Minnesota river
Still only on the surface, and only in the winter

My love is like a maple on the shore
That waits to be fed by your waters and constantly wants more

I don't need to tell you where or know where you go,
You're gonna do what you do and be beautiful so,
Don't let me stop you,
Just flow river, flow

You emerge a woman
Let your hair down from those knots
And let me keep the ribbon
So I can keep you in my thoughts

What really feels the worst
When narrowing, I had to
Isn't the threat of getting hit
It's that if I did I still couldn't have you

You go to bed next to him
I'm just a whim
Just a whim
When you've had your drinks in

You don't come to my life
I only go to yours
I jump the walls and cut the fence
But still have to knock on the door

I beg you for permission
To sit in on this chapter
But I didn't think that I'd get stuck
And not care for what came after

You go to bed next to him
I'm just a whim 
Just a whim
When you've had your drinks in

But why doesn't he come?
He won't bask in the light of your sun.
He listens to all that you've done
But takes the bench for this one

Let me force myself upon you
And you can whip me with the guilt
I've got the better back
So I'll take the weight you might have felt

I'm just a whim

I've done it again haven't I?
Thinking im better or clever or sly
It's impossible for me to live a lie
So when I say I can't be with you I have to tell them why

If he tried to match my passion then from your fancy roof you'd sing
But there's a device between our vice
And the ring is the thing

It's not fair

I don't remember what I said
While you were swerving down the road
You're next to him in bed
but you don't want to sleep alone
So I go and think the thoughts that make me eligible for lashes
If this could be our final moment

I wouldn't care if this car crashes

So close those tired eyes
And let's see what happens

But you make it back  next to him
I'm just a whim 
Just a whim
Just a whim 

Somebody buy me a drink.

I've noticed that my mustache grows in thicker on one side,
made to wonder if this blunder's due to my brother, how he died,
Never will my reddened beard grow in and lay with grace
because my brothers lifeless body layed a pressure on my face
Most men primp and think of happiness in mirrors and in breath
However, whenever I clean my face I'm forced to think of death,
(with the face of a brother I've never met)
So I celebrate life and do my best to think it limitless
Go out and do, create for you, make proud the worlds dead triplets

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.

I've noticed that my beard grows thicker in just this tiny spot,
'Cause the way they lay, I cannot help but think a rather morbid thought,
The way you are is picked afar from waned or waxed moon,
but what happens there when you're prepared a rather taxed womb?
The newest of 8 darkened waters with no help to navigate,
You'll admit having dead brothers makes it harder to relate.
But they never were alive so I can't say I have regrets,
I must make with my life, for all the worlds dead triplets

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.

My mother calls me her surprise and I think "jeezez kryst."
In honesty I'm accident, but the way you said it's nice.
I feel and see it differently inside my orange head,
But, that's just the way **** happens when you're born beside the dead.
You see, I was touched by death before I even knew of life,
I cuddled it and swam beside it up until the knife.
So death, with mercy, stays away and out of sight it gets,
for it knows I held it close, I live, a ghost, of my dead triplet.

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.

But it can't last forever,
I've already lived too long,
So immortal I'm on paper
and in the wind in song.

I said it cannot last forever,
I should already be dead,
The world it has a shortage
of another orange head

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
My dead triplet.

So with all of that in mind, defined,
my chances should be none,
I never should have had a first,
so I make all my seconds battles won.

I am the living ghost of my brother Joseph,
and all the worlds dead triplets.

We sip our coffee and tea
and walk down the street
and hold hands
you and me would be we
but in this reality
I'd have to be
a decent man

I didn't just **** up,
have bad luck
bust
and give my cards back to the dealer
I tore the ace up
Made with poison what you sip from your cup
and then realized there's no clear healer

me and Molly
We coulda been somethin'

You wouldn't know
but my mind shows
pictures of us
when our love was present
but here I go
never hearing no
I let my voice flow but nothing is resonant
Your corner lip curl
could be the reason you'd be my girl
and we'd explode
but there's no fire from me
since I dented your world
I want your bullets
but it's not a gun you'll reload

me and Molly
We coulda been somethin'

You told me if I threw the rock
at the swings
and it hit the post we'd kiss
so I jumped and ran
frightened the flock
ensured I wouldn't miss
I'll remember it forever
we've now grown different feathers
but still both of us can fly
I've got a perfect view
sitting on your never
nothing clever
ever
from the boy who wants to be your guy

but picked the worst moment to try
everything you said about me was right

Molly
honestly
I'm sorry

I think of you often
it always makes my soul soften

knowing that we can't be
something
because of me

What I wouldn't give
to take back what I did
how I ******* did it
But your light
shines bright
just fine
as long as I stay hidden

It's been years and I can still feel you in my arms
feel your breath on my face
Still know your favorites, triggers to your alarms
and the edge of your lips I could trace

I should probably forget
but that memory lies on a slant
I was never on your level
I try to push it off, I can't

me and Molly
We coulda been somethin'

the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.

THE SEA rocks have a green moss.
The pine rocks have red berries.
I have memories of you.
  
Speak to me of how you miss me.
Tell me the hours go long and slow.
  
Speak to me of the drag on your heart,
The iron drag of the long days.
  
I know hours empty as a beggar's tin cup on a rainy day, empty as a soldier's sleeve with an arm lost.
  
Speak to me ...