your words are an invitation.
i eat them off my plate
and when i swallow they become
indistinguishable from my own.

i recognize what i already knew.
we are permeable.

still i wear this cage of white bars
across my chest.
24 pieces of armour.
an illusion that reveals the work i need to do.

if i pry and break them,
one by one,
will my heart finally surface
and rejoin you?

I will hold you in my arms forever,
long after you’ve flown away.
I will love and nurture your very essence
until you float on air,
and then I will let you go.

If I’m getting it right,
you’re soaring, exploring
everything in you
and you in everything,
always knowing this embrace
is a safe place to fall.

May you live your life fully,
in vivid colour,
and feel it all,
your wings gliding
through the expanse of the sky.

how much would we shrink our world
in order to possess it?

i knew you’d come as your own unique soul, that’s good and true.
maybe i hoped you’d be happy being entirely you,
just over there at the other side of the room.
maybe i hoped you’d be a little bit of me outside of me,
so it would be a bit like being in my own company.
but it’s not.
and you don’t.

you need me always.
i love your face always.

i love your company for one hour or so,
that makes for long days.
i enjoy winter for one month or so,
the rest of it is just a low battery
and blue toes.

come closer anyway then,
let’s warm each other up,
see how it goes.

here we are surrounded by miracles.
we set chase hoping to catch stars.

any time i get close enough,
i squeeze the fireflies mercilessly
between thumb and forefinger,
extinguishing all light.

winter moves in
and my breath is the wind.
the wind delivers a slap,
a cold sting that brings relief,
and then i blow on a spark and flames grow.

rage turns to me and says:
you can't forsake or silence grief,
lie down with it and roll over and over and over again
until you’re dancing
and it becomes part of your hope.

the wind choreographs and
unites glittering diamond flakes into a snow snake that
slithers gracefully
across the yellow spotlight of the moon
on the asphalt stage.

the snake shows its fangs and asks:
can you have faith in what's born when you break open?

light enters
and breath ignites spring.
a shooting star runs down my spine.

when night comes again
i sprout wings
and take flight
dancing and glowing in the dark.

no one truly listening would ask a bird to stop singing her song.
so please,
go on.

please don’t bring me cut flowers,
walk with me in the garden for days.
i would feel more whole,
less heartbroken,

in witness of
the flower
rooted.

courting her dizzy bee suitors,
dropping her petals
by her own choice,
at her own time.

there, a glorious gift!

People are magnets.
I attract,
I repel.
If you and I meet today
do we come together,
or move apart?
Do we find each other with a click of recognition,
or pass as a running stream
dancing around a rock in its path?
Do we see ourselves in each other?
And if we meet tomorrow,
in a different orientation,
will we connect then?
Or is our fate sealed?

this store full of packages and people
is the emptiest thing i’ve ever seen
white stuffing bursting at the seams
hunchback heartache in every gluttonous scene

i want to ask,
are you full?
as i, and my hollow shadow
stand in line
gripping our own empty full cart.

where there once was a steady beat
is a parched quarry,
thirsty and wishing
within as without
for the blood of love to return.

Some people are cut out for this,
they fill and overflow.
I am pierced with holes.
And while my love for you is real,
everything flows in and out.
I work like a fountain,
wishing to grow bigger,
to shelter you instead of raining on your head.
You are precious,
and I pull and pull everything I can from
the pipes underground.
Still my patterns remain.
I can't break free from this stone,
for you or for me,
but I'll keep trying.

I ask for light,
not to hold it,
keep it to myself,
hoard it into my chest,
burning my own hands,
but so I may
in radiance
send it out.

That i may
be and do,
receive and give.

That I may
connect,
in and of
light.

That I may be,
not alone,
as a lost soul,
but swallowed whole.

Wholly lit,
illuminated,
illuminating.
Each cell
shimmering,
transparent.

That I may
disappear in participation,
persisting as one ray
in the magnificence
of the sun.

i’m a seeker
not a speaker.
my words fail,
i try again.
is it vision then,
or madness,
to keep dancing in these flames?

I gather 10,000 stars from the sky,
tie them to strings,
and present you with a twinkling bouquet.
You turn away and let the bow slip loose,
carried away in your swirling stormy thoughts,
complaining that no one brings you any sunshine.
Left tired and alone in a heavy grey cloud.

talking
across these miles
my friend,
i notice how empty
the room is,
lacking so many parts of you.

i want to reach through
and connect
my friend,
but i trip on the wires
and slip under the waves,
losing hold of you.

what i really want
in the end
my friend,
is to hang up,
get back to where i began,
missing the whole of you.

Have I kissed you enough?
You are new every minute,
I don’t want to miss it,
this version, this moment.
Let me inhale and then,
let me kiss you again.

your foot caught in an invisible trap,
wild wide glassy eyes,
teeth gnashing,
breathless howling,
crushing distress.

i am powerless to release you
from this unseen snare.
it's there, for sure, it's real for you
yet not within the influence of my hands.

you bite when i approach.
you scoot away when i reach out.
you scream when i look.

i see you, i recognize you
any trapped animal would do the same,
would act this way.

so i sit helpless.
i can't go, i can't stay.
i try to hold space
and you try to escape it.

fear is contagious and i become as afraid of you as you are of me.
i can no longer move,
or speak,
or look.

the only way through is to wait it out.
the outcome unclear in this cloud of dust you kick up.

i try to wrap you up in my heart,
sending it in waves from my mind's eye.
surrounding your curled up body
hoping to contain you.
but that's just for me,
imaginary efforts fading to nothing
in your chaotic atmosphere.

and you're there, two feet away
utterly alone and hopeless.
i can't break in,
you can't break out.
us in pieces,
particles in the air.

and when the dust settles
we'll pretend
like it never happened.

I hear you,
your sky is falling.

I wish it moved me to know that.
Prompted me to grab an umbrella to shelter you.

But, it seems like your sky falls every day.
I'm out of umbrellas.
They lay strewn around you,
while you hold your hands above your head,
preparing for bare knuckle assault.

I feel like I keep getting
shoved back into this
hole.

Life the whack.

I the mole.

In your art
and grace
a light bursts open,
surrounding you.
I'm drawn in,
infatuated.
My wings caress,
envelop you,
catch fire.

For a moment,
we become it.

In the aftermath,
i realize
i chase this light everywhere.

It floats off again,
a flaming tumbleweed
hitching a ride with the wind.
i see you naked as i am
and bend to kiss your feet.
We look at one another as soft faced strangers
and part.

Around her I'm someone who says sorry.
Constantly.
An erratic tic,
in words said or unsaid,
in gestures and averted eyes.

As though her ever present thunderstorm is my doing,
as though I'm sitting on her shoulders
dropping rain on her head.

But she didn't put me there.
She didn't bring in the clouds to strap them to my back.
She carries them herself,
inadvertently strangling my breath in the devastation of her north wind.

So why do I wrap myself up in it,
and make it my own?
Trapping myself in the grey fog,
alternately freezing and lashing out.

And now, she is not only a storm,
but a tempest dragging a caged intruder.
Weighted in destruction.
Heavier than before we crossed.

And I am lost,
in "I'm sorry".

We don't resent the bird who flies into the window
then falls to the ground,
dying.

We grieve.

Why then are we angry at ourselves and each other,
flailing in this funhouse mirror maze,
colliding.

Deceived.

A boulder is dropped in front of me,
light as a feather,
but I can't find in myself enough strength to blow.

The confusion grows,
and so does the pile of birds
on the ground below.