Saturday, August 31, 2013

Bristlecone

Face against the morning dew
risen to figure evening clouds.
Hands on our hips, closer
than we've ever been to sky.
Infinite in soft drifted boughs,
closer.  Closer to miracles
holding us together, hand
to heartbeat.  This could be
all we ever know.  

Friday, August 30, 2013

Love this song.  And this song.  The best songs turn me into a romantic.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

All of a sudden, heard a knock at the door—

I am in a staring match
with a dead

man.
Air bears
the ground I stand on,
three hundred years—
(Make it in, make it in.
An expert at poking
small holes
in aluminum cans.)
The sky shines more
blue in the eastern sun—

closed—
oxygen and nitrogen
tighter in the atmosphere.
The exhale of his eyes
to the clouds behind him.
I call this outfit "My Best Friend Wants to Die".

Friday, August 16, 2013

Atterere

Sleep comes easily,
pressed with Rose of Sharon
between lauded pages.
I imagine white light
collecting in my palms,
resting its head against my words.
Wrapped around my legs
to keep me still, hearken
to water drops and softened breaths.
For a moment, I believe in ghosts.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Number Unwarranted Loneliness

I made a wish on the time-stamp,
11:11the back of my throat.
Kept the key at the window.
Gave infinite guesses you'd pick
at my skeletons most.  Rusty
nails on the driveway
and horoscope freeways,
to drift off the night to goodbyes.
I sleep in the sunlight, a beam
through the curtainson yellow
and red specks of dust.

Sunday, August 11, 2013

L’appel du vide

I like you.
I like the dip
of your eyes,
brown and small,
but all I can see

in quiet seconds.
I like the smile lines
around your eyes,
emerging
when you wake

from our kisses.
I like dissolving
my fingers
through your hair
like spring rain—

We are the drops
that shake loose
from morning leaves.
Opalescence
rushes with you,

through you—
I am terrified
of falling in the sun.
Falling in the night
would keep the ground

ever at the next
moment—
But your eyes
steady the air
that leaves me

breathless.
I like that we are
sighs.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Morning Elsewhere

Inconsistencies
in the pronunciation
of a name—
baseline of the heartbeat—
Shadows turned
hand over hand.