Meadowlarks over the lake, half past dawn
Yellows and blues in the horizon, hanging low in the pale cloudless sky
For it is eternally afternoon here, and even the wildflowers know this; they gently droop their fluttering heads, sealing their pistils from the sun's penetrating rays

I sit by the water, capturing that pure scent that's nearly too precious for human lungs, and imagine this moment lingering on like a ripple in the lake, the water capturing the steady beating of my heart.

Visions of blood honey, lavender and ruby in sticky sweetness
Burning the tongue, that pure secretion of nature, soaking our fingers
August brought forth the bearings of strange fruit, and new faces
We hid away, for fear we’d burn in the heat, too

It starts; a fading pink glow in the distance, tucked behind violet clouds. And the white puffy ones float by as night begins its familiar course, creeping up from behind the brick buildings and settling over the sky, in deep shades of cobalt and navy. It (night) pushes away light to make room for stars and darker things, shrouded the in gray mist of 7pm clouds. The few stars, faded from light pollution and tired eyes, twinkle effervescently, frothing and churning in an endless black sea. I watch them as I orbit myself. Faster and faster I spin, swinging my arms languidly, and the earth catches me as I collapse into the grass, whilst my stomach churns. Beyond those pale specks of light, a plane soars by, its green and red lights glowing in my eyes. My body stiffens as its engines growl like feral animals. Now night has fallen, and all that once crawled under the light buries under earth, taking cover.

I see you in my dreams
In vacation home rentals, 
over the garden wall, in the soft paleness of my underarm, the freckles traced into constellations

I pull open empty closets that smell of mothballs and salt. I look for white space, for that empty feeling life gives me, for the sweetness of life on my tongue. All the while, time passes me by, aging my face.

I could cry because the sky is so blue
For my mortal soul is just a fractal in this lonely universe!
For I have no direction, other than that of my heart.

ONE CRISP NIGHT in mid October, we went down the old fisherman’s trail, where the mountains meet the lake. This was before the trail had been maintained and tossed with wood-chips and at the time, it was a narrow mangled dirt path sporting thick roots and fist sized rocks at every twist and turn. You’d be foolish to not carry a headlamp and flashlight, for the woods were nearly impassable without them. We knew this, and we came well prepared even thought stumbling at points on the trail was inevitable. When we came to the light clearing in the trees, which was brushed with pine and spruce, and the tallest oak tree I’d ever seen, we sat down on two logs. They were wet through, and covered in patches of lichen and moss. Insects crept through the rotted wood, and night moths fluttered in the still air. Though half the world was asleep in their beds, and would stay that way till morning, the forest was wide awake under the crunching maple leaves.

We marveled out at the round moon, bright and pale in the sky. It hung regally, while it’s light shone upon the lake’s dark waters, holding our faces, holding the mysteries of the universe and the answers to any question we might have. Cradled by the natural world, we were. I’ve never felt as protected, since then, as I did that one night. It was as if Mother Earth cradled me in her own ancient hands.

and you watch me, as i look around in the pile of ******* i’ve built up of myself, and try to find anything salvageable