Every now and then
dip in the water
and every mo
breath to live.

Man comes and goes
it’s a bottomless sea
and the air is still deep

Frosty air, crystal laugh.
It’s unfair, when a puff—
a white cloud—is allowed
to break free. I don’t see
why it would ever wish
to escape. So, I kiss
your chapped lips to hide,
to keep
the puff
inside.

air bubbles float with ocean foam
each time my breath escapes

my lungs deflate
my vision shakes

body sinking
suffocating

i try to survive off of air bubbles
because it's all i have left

I went down to watch the ocean this morning - well, Long Island Sound anyway. My last chance for a while, classes start tomorrow. I wonder sometimes how I can be refreshed by that gray, drizzly, melancholy harbor - locked in winter’s intemperate grip - but I am.

The salty air seems thicker and richer, the sky bigger and wilder. There’s the relaxing sound mix of wave and gull. The ugly brown pelicans bickering like old, married couples, as a lone fisherman, in his yellow macintosh slicker, sorts his boat lines under the watchful, hopeful, hungry eyes of floating black-backed gulls.

Maybe I should become a sailor? Besides, I hear it’s a great way to meet guys.

your heart will not fail in space
it will be an object of its own mass
and gravity
no longer will there be a throttle in its vessels
and asynchronicity in its rhythms—
the beats, oh, the beats
your heart, when it is in space, will only wait
for an entity
to be jettisoned from a shuttle

my oxygen is running low
i love you to your heart and never back

before, questions lingered in the air.
weary eyed nights were spent
stuffing yourself into a small box
for someone who only took you
on long, winding, painful paths
where the ends were shrouded
by looming trees and bushes.

now, the air is blissfully clear.
someone smiles when you stretch.
they walk right alongside you.
there may be darkness along the way,
but they will hold your hand through it.
the end of this path is straight ahead -
bright, expansive, and fruitful.