in the early hours
when you

left our bed
to set upon

a quiet house
now

the sky
cracked

and screaming
now

the weight
of so many words

now
the smudge

the sun makes
and when

at last
we catch cathedral

let us
release you

to a bolt
of blue sky

minimalism.
mnmlsm.
mmm.
mm.
m.
.

si lence of snow

the for the how

be said ghosts un

too much so fold

There is slow ly.

m(ending)
                                 you
           a      nd
         i(n)
      me

i will give you
permission

to cut me
with your knife

to give me eyes
that will not see

a mouth
that will be silent

i will give you
permission

to take your hands
and scrape away

my seeds
turning my insides

out
i will give you

permission
to cut me

with your knife
againandagainandagain

if you promise
to leave

your light
inside me

i am humbled
by calder’s wires

by the music
miles monk

and mingus made
by the impastos

of van gogh
and van rysselberghe

by rodin’s
le secret

listen

the snow pillows
upon the pines

listen

the river breathes
across summer stones

it is all
one tongue
one language

there is
a reason
for this