I hope my words
float in your head
like multicolored balloons
unraveled from their weights

Your sun stained hair
no longer melts
between my fingers

Wobbly knifes, nervous on
diner tables
How are you?
I wish I didn't know why
you are not here
exploring foreign floors
together where our feet meet
sinking into waiting steps
the hum's amplitude increases
as I fade out
to a state of mind
framed around you
built upon your grounds

Blurry eyed under hotel covers
where a man on a mission
scales fences that block
building backs.
This unanticipated destination
where have we found ourselves
by getting lost?

Sharing yellow starbursts,
artificial color stains our saliva
what feels like years later,
as I have aged quite a bit by this point,
I repeat the motion in my mouth
reminiscent of you
instant messages of gentle reminders
to resentment
anger saturated print
seeks to disfigure my skin
insides twist in response
to the configuration of a screen
energy signals lost in translation

When will I see you again?

Shift between obstacles
drawn down onto the ground
gulp a spring waking
while figments of my imagination
hide behind trees that shed their past
Be kind if I'm gone.
Complexity composing more than me
use a flashlight missing batteries
to find the transformation
arriving in each directionless step

The unnecessary repetitions
of your bodies breathing
it climbs the stairway
of the spine
tripping over and over
on the same creaking step
of disbelief,
****** knees
find themselves in missing sheets
that hung from the seems
on backyard linings
until the ghosts of the ground
took them for their sacred dinings
reminders written into sticky notes
posted on the walls of the skull

the acid green numbersof the digital clock surge
flickering indefinitely against their black-board canvas
Symbols in a constant flow of rotation, here where our circadian rhythm dances, 
stepping forward gently into the grace of each hour
You taught me to move my feet,
I passively glide to her lead
as she guides my hand
tilts up my chin with the night of her finger tips
into the sea of the sky my moss marble eyes sink
clinging to the vast, black, uncertainty of it all
a weight off my shoulders,
now chained to my ankles
no better than a corpse, within the hold of gravity’s grasp
flooded airways
who had just met an unknowing last breath
which had escaped silently into the innocence of reflective bubbles.
And if still waters run deep,
is it wrong to tread them blindly? Shattered as the seashells scattered across the frantic ocean floor
is the state of the sanctuary
that I used to know as my mind.
Cement side walks still cracking in encounter with life’s forces
sentenced by it’s own inflexibility. 
But with the willows i’ll bend, 
swaying silently with the sureness of the traveling breeze