Just like a river, meandering true,
I'm like a river flowing back to you,
From the Alpine turquoise to the ocean blue,
Cascadia, flow through me.

Just like a Cabernet, smooth and red,
You're like a wine flowing to my head,
I won't get enough, not until I'm dead,
Cascadia, flow through me.

Just like the city running to and fro,
I'm like the city when I even and flow,
Like a train, if I leave, I know back I'll go,
Cascadia, flow through me.

Just like blood, with no end or start,
I'm like the blood flowing back to my heart,
Returning to you, dear, has become an art,
Cascadia, flow through me.

Just like the city train, just like blood,
If you're the soil, I'll be the bud,
Just like the river, just like wine,
If I'm coming home to you, I'm gonna be fine.
Cascadia, flow through me,
Cascadia, flow through me.

The Sun sets more quickly each eve
by mere perceived fractions
But each time I am more aware
the preciousness of breath.

I wonder if it's possible to love the stars
as fiercely as I do
Without loving love just as fiercely.
There is a stirring so deep
and so intimately connected to my whole
when I'm under their spell,
not unlike the song of my heart in heat.
And yet, for some,
These things are disconnected.
I only wish for a way
of knowing your experience,
And a way to share this sweet richness
if yours is lacking,
Like an artist sharing a sweet pairing
of music and words,
wine and chocolate,
or color and light,
Where there previously was none.

My soft futon beckons,
And I have saved half a bottle
Of companionship and comfort
For tomorrow's adventure.
There are frustrations and exhaustions
sewn throughout my brain,
But now is the time
To put them to sleep.
Tonight we spend long hours together,
Spilling childhoods and chilled liquor,
Keeping the night bright,
And wrapping ourselves in laughter.
Tomorrow we venture forth,
Face down our differences,
And search for some new way
To fight back the dark...
After we sleep.

While wandering Wonderland
My companions ask,
"What do you want to see next?"
"Anything!" I respond,
Genuinely curious,
But propelled mostly by dreams
Of hot, savory noodles,
Fresh pastries in new textures,
And all of the extravagance,
Novelty, and confusion
Of the next unfamiliar feast.

KFC, Box Wine, and Oreos.
We'd scream, howl, and cry
every thought under the moon
for hours in your Jetta,
wandering McElroy Park,
or drunk on the living room carpet.
We'd take notes so we could "make art"
out of our feelings,
the laugh through tears
at the absurdity of it all.
Together,
there was fire and magic
in the dark.
Is anything forever?
Of course not.
We did that then,
But we know it now.

"I could live here,
In the mountains,"
I say,
Any time I go anywhere
with mountains.

The words are involuntary.
No spells have been cast
Yet I am enchanted
For better or worse.

"I could go there,
Anywhere,"
I say,
Any time you say
you want to go.