A box fell from the shelf
Before my very eyes,
Spilling contents as it went,
To the place that it now lies.

I don't understand why
Certain things are beautiful.
But I watched it as it made
Its descent and I felt very
Moved.

Where every thing is black and white
in technicolor;

Where no matter how absurd,
things turn out well;

A cruel place,
but not systematically so;

Where one thing is sure:
when the coyote treads air--
pedaling as fast as he can,
gravity prevails.

Beep, beep.

It's the pilot light in the stove,
                                    the fireplace.  It’s the
night light in the bathroom,
                        the living room.  The
reflection in the mirror,
                  in the glass of my windshield.  The
      hum of electricity,
the sigh of the furnace.  

What do you mean I’m supposed to go looking for something that is constant?

The conjoined twin does not go looking for its sibling.
                 The brain does not search for the heart.  
The shadow always finds the body.  Gravity invariably
                                                    pulls the moon into orbit.  

The smoldering ache of loss
                  —hot like bubbling magma, bright like a solar flare—
                                                   is always there.  
Lurking beneath the skin.  The face behind the mask.  
                 Gnarled roots beneath the forest.

What do you mean I’m supposed to look for something that is a part of me?
Assimilated to my sense of normalcy.  Integrated into my DNA.
I can only do so much introspection before I go insane.

The world we make
Is a safe place to fall from
Spiraling into one another
Our souls orbit like Saturn's moons
Drawn by an irresistible gravity

The world we make
Is a journey most never experience
An adventure full of new discoveries
And unexplained connections
Guiding us toward one another

The world we make
Is familiar and foreign
A home for healing hearts
And building dreams
From the fractured pieces

Broken and beautiful
Raw and rare
Faith and fear
Grace and gratitude
Ours

your skin creates peace inside me
creating wrinkles in time
i find myself constantly longing to feel you close
for us to create friction between gravity
our inertia to propel us into voids of pleasure
nothing between us is what i desire
but when you deny me
black holes devour me
crushing my guts into pulp
bleeding me with your rejection
i blend till i am nothing from what i began

than sweet moments suspended in time
like thick, dark, smooth molasses
resisting the strong pull of gravity
as it flows from a shiny silver spoon.