The moon is really bright tonight
we're partially drunk and having
a fight.

*All that I know is the moon knows why.

In the morning chalk dusted light you wake
Draw back the curtain on your lidded eyes
Blink in a dawning day, and, for all this, make
Man gaze at the universe that so readily twinkles back
A soft celestial song, sounded though the tack
They pause, allowing you to be heard
Baby and blue and bird

For every constellation that pulls men through oceans
For every compass, and map and chart
For every head, for every beating heart
The baby blue will sing, oh and will he sing!
A quiet aria, but let him glide and glide
Up past the paper sails, and round the mast’s old tale
To perch on the sweetest of symphonies
But then! Oh then, by hour by hour
Filling with music, that long leaden tower
He will stop, and catch their heavy lids
Children of the docks, dreaming of the stars
Of life beyond tack and sail and sea
As they whisper in etchings their plans
To blue, on the boards of the berth deck
You listen, to every scattering word
Baby and blue and bird

I swear by the wood stork, the albatross, the kite
The dip of kingfishers in the water
I would adore you all my sorry life
And adore you every one thereafter.

am I even supposed to be in love you? your thick horn-rimmed frames and curly hair never cease to leave my brain and remains engrained in my thoughts from when I first wake up, to bus rides on my way to school, coffee in the foggy afternoons, and when I lie awake at night staring at the artificial stars spread out on my ceiling. I miss you so much and I am not sure why we had never spoken before you moved but maybe it was fate that led me to finding you through the internet and let us become lovers in such a modern age. it’s easier now with our computers and iPhones yet I know that we both still crave romantic letters in swirly handwriting or ten paged typewritten letters from across the country in the back seat of a bright mustard, gypsy caravan with a peace sign engraved onto the license plate. I wish you could just easily come back instead of having to wait for opportunities to visit during school breaks, since we are constantly in town when the other is not. do you still write passages about your childhood memories and about “love” because they were equally as beautiful if not equally true. what are you thinking about when you are passing through the golden gate bridge as the window is halfway open and a vampire weekend song echoes through the car, mixing in with the sounds of the sea? do you still hold your breath in the old rainbow tunnel we used to make wishes in? or do you not even bother to try. I hope we can make things work since this love is anything but unrequited, and I am craving your freckles more than anything in the world. no, maybe even more than anything in the universe. I am going nowhere soon so come back whenever you would like before time runs out and we head our separate ways. please, for your name is starting to appear in my notebook too many times and I am madly in love with the idea of being with you, even if for only one day.

Light shoulders, heavy wings:

Grief as elevation
Grief placed in the mouths of babes and bystanders
Grief visited in sterile places
Grief spoon fed for weeks
Grief taken to momentary extremes
Grief as a diving bell

A 10cm network for all you need/nothing can ever be too fresh

Half awake, half past noon
grey light shines dutifully
just past my eggshell
window sill.

I try to clear my head,
collect my scattered
thoughts, straighten all
the heart strings that get
so inevitably tangled within
one another, and definitely in

the web of uncertainty you've
woven for me.

I've walked for centuries upon
a sand filled beach, a dozing meadow
mostly cement and concrete
I never thought I'd be more
concerned about someone other
than me.

You're slipping away, so ever
slow, day by day
you're getting tired,
and it's getting too late
for me to be saved.

To me it's seems that it takes months for a guy to admit he's in love

While girls, it'll only take one look

And she knows

He's concrete and
I'd love to be sidewalk chalk --
wash me away with rain,
but first let me lay a brief mark of my own
on all of his sidewalk cracks and all of his
broken pieces, the little slabs and pebbles that
weathered off from storms -- let me spill drawings there
with neon bright color
that are almost obscene in their hue.

Yes, I know it's temporary, we're temporary,
but maybe that's what makes it so
magnificent.

"Elegance is the only beauty that never fades....  -Audrey Hepburn

I beg to differ...
there are many beauties.....
such as...
the intensely knowing glance
of someone who has known you... intrinsically...
The glance that let's you know
that there are things deep inside of you,
that have never changed.
It's the look that identifies
the links in your histories,
and that reveal your very core.
The look that says I still see you...
with acceptance and understanding...
That fleeting momentary look ...
whether seen throughout a lifetime.
... or a lifetime ago....
That look, acknowledges a basic truth of who you really are.
Acknowledges, that you are truly known...outside of yourself.
It transcends decades
and inspires
both fear and awe in me....
and I think that is beautiful!