read up

a fearful leap

into the abyss

i gulp the wild air

it rushes

i taste the sound

your song is like sunshine

should you fall

into impenetrable darkness

are you alone?

i hear what you aren’t saying

every word

punctuated

by silence

the shrill quiet

louder than any

sentence

you speak

the beauty is

no one knows the answer

we all teeter

on the edge

of what is right

i am fearful for

that which we write

may fall

upon deaf ears

though we burn bright

others may shiver

what art was born

of necessity

of coin or breath

if not

every

last

piece

the storm came later

they fell like

redwood trees

or great sequoias

my heart is

a place

of other places

you make the

mundane

magical

laughing with

lollipops

dancing

how serendipitous

is death

the tang

of impertinence

burns my tongue

as it once

again

slips

away

the two wolves

are not

at war

i dwell

in the possibility

of being

my own best friend

i hate to close a book

leave the world behind

but as it closes

i realize

i carry the world

with me

forever

it glitters

suspended

wrought with new life

great pink

sun burst

forth

how nice to

sing

sweetly

with

the winter’s breath

a sweetness

accompanies

the stench of

lying

in wait

while some

decay

and rot

others

may bloom

i am

holding

a bowl

the cool earth

it is made of

was once hot

molten

as i stand

barefoot

in the kitchen

making paper

i think of you

the pulp drips

down my wrists

a chaotic rain

inside and out

the petrichor

permeates

my soul

even perfection is

deckle edged

for you to find the space

inside yourself

where flowers bloom

and return so often

it becomes home

so meek and comforting

nestled in a shaded wood

so expansive, far-reaching

you scarce see the border

your own thriving kingdom

it whispers from across the sea

and everywhere else is abroad

an unironic

way of saying

i loved you more

than i could have dreamed

in that moment

you were everything

and all else was gone

the cacophony

of silence

between us

feelings fling

flit

from ear

to ear

the writhing

spirit of your

heart it breaks

i hold in my hand

a cup of gold

with which

to repair

hello to the colors

you shed

to reveal the light

between

the layers of sediment

which built up

all those years

but now drift

there is not

(i repeat)

an imperfection

that could hold

so much power

to dim the light

that drips like

honey

from your eyes