You like stars?
Fool.
Those are the little holes poked in the container so we can breathe.

There are holes in my brain          and I shovel words to bury
                                       that emptiness

I look for laughter                                          that's not my own

I search my hometown graveyard
                     the spaces of your affection

I'm flipping through the oldest books
                     ******* in the autumn air;

I cannot find the thing                                                  I lost

There are holes in my brain but I kept you,
                                       Heart,

                    perhaps a different way of craving
                                     wholeness

Sixty red balloons
Seeping air through barely-patched holes
Falling from the sky.

We climb the stars
Make honey in our hearts

Mad as a jackrabbit
We leap into dark holes

Walk among winged creatures
Quiver in our skins

And swear that we can fly
Feather-light on love alone