you cannot convince me that people are unlike a drug.

XIII

It's

the

semblance

of

belonging-

that 

gets

me

every

time.

Semester's Alarms

2:50 am
2:53 am
5:05 am
6:27 am
6:35 am
6:43 am
6:45 am
6:47 am
6:50 am
7:00 am
7:05 am
7:15 am
7:17 am
7:30 am
7:34 am
7:45 am
7:48 am
7:49 am
7:52 am
7:55 am
8:00 am
8:02 am
8:05 am
8:10 am
8:15 am
8:18 am
8:27 am
8:29 am
8:30 am
8:34 am
8:40 am
8:43 am
8:45 am
8:56 am
9:00 am
9:03 am
9:07 am
9:10 am
9:15 am
9:30 am
9:40 am
9:43 am
10:00 am
10:04 am
10:10 am
11:40 am
1:10 pm
1:50 pm
2:45 pm
4:45 pm
Monday
4:46 pm
4:47 pm
4:47 pm
4:47 pm
4:47 pm
6:58 pm
11:00 pm

I should have been more like Amanda Palmer.

They don't sell fruit here anymore

They don't sell fruit here anymore,
There's nothing citrus
to callous the sore-

Like two married people
too proud for divorce.

What you told me
I'd never have to believe
When I was four

Flash-forward several states
and it doesn't look like war.

Just two married people
wrapped in the same wet blanket

not growing together,
just old.

What if you could lose your nose?

What if
you could
lose your nose
if you

stopped thinking
about it for
long enough?

That's sometimes
how I feel.

It's a shame
that the way we create
is not a part
of our bodies.

I was only ever
as big as the spaces between your fingers-

I think that's what
scared me the most.

dictionary.com

home

   [hohm]  Show IPA noun, adjective, adverb, verb,homed, hom·ing.

noun

1.

a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usualresidence of a person, family, or household.

2.

the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.

3.

an institution for the homeless, sick, etc.: a nursing home.

4.

the dwelling place or retreat of an animal.

5.

the place or region where something is native or most common.

Love and Home and Dreams

I've always told myself
that I'd never let loving someone
be more important than my dreams,

then I started to dream of you
and that complicated things.

I started breaking at the knees,
became threadbare at the seams
you know I used to believe
that sometimes skin needs scars
to hold it together when it
starts to pull apart,

my heart, my mind
on the edge of my body
asking you what you call home,

I am a person without a home
but with somewhere to sleep,
and you to love and that's good I think,

I want to take you to every place
I've read about in books
so I can say that I've been in love with you
everywhere that someone calls home

because home is a beautiful concept
and you are a beautiful human being
and that fucking scares me, but I like it,
most days I really do, and when it's not terrifying
I think that's beautiful, too.

I won't ask you to make home,
but I'd love to see you be home-
I can't even imagine how beautiful that must be.

"I'm like the man who carried a brick with him
to show the world just what his home looked like."

-Bertolt Brecht

A Reoccurring Reality

Here we are
wearing our bulbous,
placental gloves

trying to crochet
a better world.

Unable to put down the hook
at the risk of losing
validation for attempted
craftsmanship,

we do not ask ourselves
who we are trying
to keep warm.

You, like I,
are convinced that
a blind man will see
red if he tries hard enough.

If he breaks bread
with the red-seers.

If he gives them his time
(while he takes theirs),
wrapping them in texture.

When did they teach us
what we could not learn?

XII

it can't exist.

I didn't give you my heart

I didn't give you my heart
I didn't give you
my heart I didn't
give you my heart
I think I think I

gave you I think
I gave you my
foot and since I
gave you my foot

it has been much
worse much worse
than if I gave you
if I gave you my

heart it has been much
worse much worse
than if I gave you
my heart

Home XI: 114 Days Ago

Home
may be
where
you go,
after
tip-toeing
around
the world,
to walk
on your
bare feet.

Time, Home

I thought for a second
that your fifteen minutes
was an hour,
figured if I gave it a week
you'd stay a day
or two,

then a month went by
and it was a year,
October-o'clock
but that's just semantics-

golden hours copper
sunset silver spoon
make new friends
and keep them new
sun, weary moon
will grab the tide,

and we'll watch, intently,
because everybody
wants to make somebody move.

I thought I saw you.
Maybe it was May,
maybe winter breeze
through Pasadena June-

for every minute you slept
I lived two.

I spent three, four, six seconds
staring at your lips
and it was six o'clock-
the sun was cold, like we like it

and you made me breakfast-
I didn't know you could do that
in the time it takes
for me to bat my eyelashes once.

Then a week past
and I had to wait a month,
a month made of months
I waited, to touch your neck and jaw
to rest my hands around your face,
to say nothing

and to think, I think I'm home now-
but I'm not quite sure,

in that moment
I was ready to die of old age.

Home X (ten)

Leave home

to come home

but it (perhaps)
was not-home

and this is not

home-

these are elsewheres

that are heres

these theres

depend on

where you

lay your head at night-

not right
for left or wrong
but left, then
gone and
not home,

the un-home
the no-home,
the unknown-

it vibrates
inside my fingertips
and I am
terrified.

If you asked me (and perhaps you did)

If you
asked me

(and
perhaps
you
did)

when love
stopped
being the
greatest thing
on earth,

I must
have
said

it didn't--

no,
it never
did.

Before you know me well

Before you know me well
I should tell you that
I'm the kind of person
who for months stood by a plan
to move to Argentina

because I really liked a pear I ate
that had an Argentina sticker on it.

And maybe also
how for years I wanted to be
a marine biologist
and now I don't really know why.

And how just about everything I've done
that I've been proud of,
I did because someone I loved
told me it was a good idea.

Maybe I'd tell you over coffee
how I sometimes try to give up coffee,
but I'm never quite interested enough.
(I write this, as I sip my coffee.)

I think before you know me well
you should know me better,
so you can know better, if that's good-
but anyway, maybe you know best.

---

Yesterday
I wondered if it was mathematically possible to see the exact same formation of raindrops hitting West Louther in one moment and another.

I wondered if it was art.

I wondered if knowing more about math would make me know more about art.

Or rain.

Concept of Vertebrae

You wondered
why I was able to lay so still-
so precariously nestled between
the edge of your mattress and the wall

and so cold, and so gray
like the wall, in the light

like I might-

but I didn't.
I didn't make myself the wall.

I couldn't speak then
but if I did, I might have said
something about my baker's dozen
thoratic spine, the heart
that reeled and shrank back in its cage
until it was vertebrae-

no space to move
and no will to explain-

I wondered
how you were able to climb into that twin bed
without touching me-
without touching me at all.

I loved you with my body

I loved you
with
my body,

and minded
my effect
I asked

you with
my answers

if
the numbers
were correct

respected

boundaries written
some in sand
and some
in stone-

I loved
you with my
heart still
when

my body
was alone.

Love that burned his fingers

Johny
I didn't realize you were there
when we ate the grapes
right out of their skin-
it was a simple luxury
that I had forgotten.

And as we ran,
through the most peculiar rain
in the fields where the cattle used to be
and were not then-
I don't know if you knew that-
you were there
and I didn't notice.

The fireflies came out
and a man I called "Other John"
when I was small showed us
love that burned his fingers
every year,
I called him John then
because you weren't around.

And when we danced
on that tire swing
it was a different red-
and moved to a different tree
that was bigger,
because we were bigger,
and you were there
and I don't know how
I didn't notice.

It started small

(lyrics to another song, plans to provide audio for these soon)

It started small, a whispered thought
in the back of my mind-
and there you were, so strong and tall
in the back of my mind.
I hear your laugh across the street
and the several states in between-
it's funny how you comfort me
despite the way this makes me feel.

And I thought that you might stick around,
but you are gone and you're not coming back.

It grew so large, that whispered thought
in the back of my mind-
I felt the beat of your pulse
in my throat.
And I lost myself entirely
in loving you; you with me.
It's strange to make
something new on my own.

And I thought that you might stick around,
but you are gone and you're not coming back.

It started small, it grew so large-
in the back of my mind;
I felt the beat of your pulse
in my throat.

I'm on the Youtubes! :)

Home IX

Como si no hubieran tocado el suelo los dedos-

            yo, suspendida en el momento, en el aire.

Home VIII

What's your hair?

Dirty blonde

Feel for citrus?

Very fond

Where you live?

Each place I go

And you call home?

I don't know.

22 November 2010: It's just like words

And what I meant, was, of course no when said yes was in question. Handedness and seating and breathing but mostly breathing, love always love but it is not a part of the meal plan

- - -

I'm just trying to change the color of your mood ring, just doing my best to do my best, trying to change

- - -

Just like art.

- - -

So color me red and paint me white, I want to be a stranger

- - -

And I want this for all the wrong reasons, and when I'm bored I press my neck, I think pulse is the most accessible art

- - -

Sometimes there are less words, sometimes there are only other people's words, we use them to see with heads and hearts, love

- - -

She told me that change is the only constant

I was gonna be a pirate

...I like how when I finally sit down with the music I've written and devise plans to record it is when I get to writing music semi-regularly again. I guess there could be worse things :) this isn't finished, but I'll go ahead and put it out there. "I Hate Goodbyes" is on the to-record list also. Perhaps saying I'll record things will actually get me to do it :)


I was gonna be a pirate
and I was gonna be a preacher,
I was gonna be a marine biologist,
I was gonna be a doctor,
and I was gonna be a spy
when I was done being a doctor

but the rain came in

and the tide went high-

we watched fireworks

on the fifth of July

and I wasn't a pirate,

a doctor or a spy.

I was just a kid,

but one full of dreams,

and now I think

I'd like to be a dreamer

and I wonder,

did I dream too many times?

I was gonna be a fireman
though I considered being a firetruck
and I was gonna be a big star
but little girls can't be a big star
so I was gonna be a farmer
and I was gonna grow many trees with fruit

but the rain came in
and the tide went high-
we watched fireworks
on the fifth of July
and I wasn't a pirate,
a doctor or a spy.

I was just a kid,
but one full of dreams,
and now I think
I'd like to be a dreamer
and I wonder,
did I dream too many times?

I was just a freckled,
blue-eyed child
with a grin
and a little red bike,
and a little scrape
on each my knees
and a plan to ride
until they were dry.
And I wondered
when the school bus come
now I wonder,
did I dream too many times?

Meteorite

I don't know you
but I thought I should say
that when I drove
past your house
earlier tonight
I thought I saw something
great in your yard-

an opalescent meteorite-

it looked like
what would happen
when the sky and the sea
fell in love with the earth
for the first time
at the same time.

And there it was,
right next to your mailbox.

I've come to the conclusion
that it was probably
a heap of trash bags,
but I've relished believing otherwise.

When you take my words

When you wish to take my words
they were yours anyway-
though to take
is not to receive
and to give
is not to be taken from.

When you take my words
you know you take not
my essence,
not my reasons
not the thing that
makes me tremble-
I call it thing for I lack
its word.

When you know
you should also know
that I know, I knew
before I pricked my fingertips
so the words might
seep out, so slowly,
that when I touched your ear,
your paper, your screen
there would be only words.
Still, you told me so
like explaining love to a child.

When you take my words
you do not take my essence,
my reasons, my tremble.
You take only
all that I have
and the most I can give.
I would ask you to treat them well
if I could speak.

One thing I tried

One thing I tried
was to never
let shyness
make me unkind-

when I managed that,
I expected it then-
It'd be foolish of me
to apologize.

Sometimes it's the Atlantic

Sometimes it's

the Atlantic

and sometimes it's

the sweat on our skin-

Know, my darling,

that the only thing
ever keeping me from you

is a little salt,

the taste

is fine on my lips.

I Hate Goodbyes

Dear Thomas,
You taught me a lot of things,
like to love your friends
as much as your family,
as much as your family.
Because family will always be there
but if you love your friends as much
you'll have the most incredible friends
and you considered me one of them.

And it's true what anyone will tell you
that people forget you as strangely as they met you,
it's frightening and comforting,
it's frightening and comforting.
It's frightening because it means you're dispensable
and while that's true,
it's comforting because it must mean
that they're dispensable too.

When I was in town and met you for coffee
we went where we always used to-
sat in the same chairs with different air,
the same chairs with different air
and I couldn't breathe when you told me
about your intended major
and how you like to run barefoot
because I already knew that
and we used to talk about, we used to talk
about the things that scared us the most,
and the people we loved,
and remind one another that
there was always someone who held us dear.

It's true what anyone will tell you 

that people forget you as strangely as they met you,

it frightens and comforts me,

it frightens and comforts me.

It's frightening because it means you're dispensable

and while that's true,

it comforts me to think it means

that they're dispensable too.

When you kissed me in your room

when my hair was long

and you were just as lost as I was,

was it frightening and comforting?

Was it frightening and comforting?

Was it frightening because you'd forgotten
what it felt like to kiss someone
when you were not in love?

Was it comforting, so damn easy
to confirm that someone still held you dear?

Some months went by and you said

you didn't regret it,

I doubt that each day but remind

myself that you said it-

it's frightening and comforting,

I thought you might know by now
how I hate goodbyes

enough to not say hello again.

But I won't tell you that,
I wouldn't want to make you sad.
I like to think that it would make you sad,
Because if it did
wouldn't that mean you still cared?
Held me dear?
That'd be frightening and comforting,
more frightening than comforting.

And when you taught me

And when you taught me
to break my own heart
you didn't even try,

I swam to the top
of my desolation
for only glimpses of you,
cracked for my inhibition,

swam to the bottom
to decide I'd love you
foolishly, quietly-

prepared for summer months
of sunflowers and blisters-

so that at the very least
if you fancied to see
you'd find the death of a human
as she made you something beautiful
and loved you fully,

and maybe you would
like to know you were loved fully
even if by a fool like me
who perished in the process.

I judged the Pompeii of your anguish

I judged
the Pompeii
of your
anguish
by the radius
of nicotine debris
circling you
on that picnic table-
not the bench,
fire-sun-shine
with a dark-cloud
and a
red-umbrella

For Basic Health

Do Something          (Anything)

Be Somewhere         (Anywhere)

Say Some Words       (Anywords)

Hold Someone          (Anyone)

Walk Someplace       (Anyplace)

Eat Some Fruit         (Anyfruit)

Make Some Dream    (Anydream)

Take Time, Think    (Anythink)

Drink Some Tea       (Anytea)

Love Something       (Fearlessly)


May it be our greatest honor
to find a Sphere
where we once perceived
a Straight Line.

The sun sets and truly so

The sun sets
and truly so,
in the west
and not
someone else's metaphor,

then I will sleep-
so really sleep,
not for soul
but minimum wage-
it will meet me
in the dark
after some hours.

My drive
will be ignition,
not ambition,
miles per hour
stop-go
honest transportation.

Tonight I teared
but did not weep-
more than tired
less than withered
altogether
all together

I remember telling myself

I remember
telling myself
that it's okay to write,
to not be afraid of drawing,
to draw every day, even,
that it's important to draw.

I remember
when caring was
the most important thing
I could think of,
when loving was
the greatest feeling in the world,
and when the pain
of love lost
was an honor-
a victory, even.
For loving the most.

I remember
lacking inhibition,
striding into art
and care and love
as if nothing was easier-
I think the secret to it
was knowing
I was good at drawing
and caring
and loving.

I remember
telling myself
to never forget that.

I was not sleeping

When the world crumbles
it cracks the creases of the
undone red-swimming-yellow,
color and crumble
to make the heart
shake, shatter, to settle
into the back corner
of its cage-

Did you know
that you
and the world
could move
a heart so?

The gestation of a
thought turned word
absurd, if consistent
nice, with distance
wrong at present-
"Wake yourself"
but I was not sleeping-

I was not sleeping.

But thinking-
my thought young, yes,
but breathing,
and if I forgave you
for pulling her from her place
(through nostrils?)
despite premature blood
that fell down the hollow
of my neck,
I could not forgive myself
for not having her back.

Words that I held in my hand

Words
that      I
  held in my    hand
but   crushed
  like
the  child who
suffocates  a chick
on Easter         Sunday -
      that dig  their
 talons     into
my throat
        before      touching
 lips     words
and all I could ever
                                   words
wish to know

let them
                    (words)
grow

let them

   grow

let     them                grow

For whom you stole your roses

For whom
you stole
your roses
from where
you planted
seeds -

love in
latent violence
is love
is love indeed

Gorgeous

Let's get one thing straight-
when I saw you on Tuesday
the first word
that came to my mind was
Gorgeous.
Not tired, or weaker
or bald or different,
though you were all of those things-
but first and most brilliantly,
Gorgeous.

In your life of lunches
and visits and car rides
it couldn't have been easy-
but there you were,
tying a scarf around your head
as if placing a sunhat
over the delicately arranged
grandma hair that
defined you for the years I've know you.
You gave me your jacket
for the still crisp Alexandria morning,
and we were on our way.

When we brought you
to the hospital
you pointed out the free coffee
(for patients and families of patients),
introduced us to your new friend
whose name I couldn't pronounce
and country I did not recognize.
You left us with the free coffee
and quietly disappeared into another room.

When you came back,
all pastels and smiles,
you told us how treatment
makes you feel like a pretzel,
and suggested a sandwich place
we could stop in on the way home.

And when we refused to take
the 20 dollar bill you waved
around the window into the place
you gave me this ridiculous,
eyebrowed look-
the silliest look I'd seen in a long time,
and one I would never, ever
expect from my grandma.
And even then you were
Gorgeous,
Striking beyond measure.

I'm

aching

for 

places

..

there must be

people

who

staple together

brochures

for their

scrapbooks

of

home

home

home

Bodyjesus

Bodyjesus
your soul in the sky
left a body
in our rubble-
like a great shoe,
we unshod children
walked in.

I thought there was something strange
but you were Jesus
so I looked twice-

Bodyjesus, your arms shouldn't bend that way
though better to reach behind your back,
your folded elbows make leather cups
that we cannot drink from
and the soft spot,
stretched and burnt by the sun-
do we not lose you even
in the dead shed cells of your skin?

Bodyjesus
you lost interest in the dewey grass,
elected to grow out your toenails-
they curled spiney around the pads
until they could not callous,
made it so that every soul
who comes to wash your feet
will cut his hands.

When you discovered
the many meters of intestines
just beneath your ribs
you pulled them out
and draped them over your arms
for the world to see,
Bodyjesus,

I saw you once
fling four of your own vertebrae
in a bout of rage-
you made new ones out of chicken wire,

assured me they were as good as new
but when you turn I can still see
the festering, fighting skin
in the small of your back.

When you feared the color blue
you went and bled your veins red,
When you hated what you saw
removed the eyes from your own head-
Could not hold your children
arms too full of daily bread,
Bodyjesus,

If your left hand was perfect
no one would notice,

Even the searching spirits
who wanted to be you,
they're shaking just to think-
What Would Bodyjesus Do?

Home VII

"Wake up, you sleepyhead

I think the sun's a little brighter today" 

Any day it's July 2010,

5:00 a.m to 6:00 a.m

on a back porch that isn't mine

and a Red Sweater-

heavy and porous,

heavy sleeping on my collarbones

and letting in the not-quite-cracked-sky's

first exhaled breath;

it is cold and new and now familiar. 

"Go down to the shore, kick off your shoes

dive in the empty ocean"

When you're driving at first sun-smirk,

you see their home in a way that they maybe haven't yet-

even if they grew up here

and know it well,

so well that they can't wait to get out.

"Tell me that everything is all taken care of

by those qualified to take care of it all"

They could tell you that the tree by Ironhorse and Route 185

is the biggest Sycamore in New England,

but what they don't know is how it looks 

when the first rays of sunshine

race 93 million miles through matter

to touch its surface,

dance with light foot and quiet heart

on its knots and hollows,

still cool from the night.

"Though we would like to believe we are,

we are not in control- though we would love to believe"

I found the quiet

I found the sunshine, the moment

where the two brush fingers-

just by Route 185

and if you were not awake 

to see it

know with barefoot and fond heart

that I loved it enough for both of us.

*all quoted text is from the song "Dive In" by Dave Matthews Band.

The door was off its hinges
so we walked in,
you see she's never been the type
to carry keys
and today it doesn't matter.
In the wake of
unborn biographies
turned faction-fiction
all I wanted to do
was play God-
talk to someone
who could not exist
and make her a beautiful
that would shock the stars,
stop the cars
and blur the concept-
Begin.
Eve was made of ribs
but you are made of
prefrontal cortex and heart,
the time
growing wide and tall
that it may take
if it takes,
stick-strike-slip will
Make
you just gorgeous-
as real as they come.
You will own
the lifewater in my hands,
wick it away
when you are thirsty-
I will give you my
Eve-rib everything,
tonight I will have
turned a day
when I left something centered
and she will be you.
I will build you
and I will thank you.
I will leave you out to dry.

A to B

I took my straight line
stretched it out
and tied it around
all of you,
to your ankles
said
"make me love me,
I love you
love me
I'll love too
if you do"
when there's truth
to find truth,
you said
it's out there-
find it, go-
you're scratching
at your knees
when you should be
scratching at the sky,
why aren't you
scratching at the sky?
Skin fabric
around love
that I love
(love me)
when we ask "why"
don't say "because"-
don't word
just deed
(love me)
plant seeds
that are truth
grow more truth,
in the sky
and not your knees
Skin-hold
on the breed
love you
and love you
and love seeds
grow trees
trees that will
scratch the sky
and not the breed
love breed
(love me)
truth tied to your ankles
like trees,
roots-fiber-word-deed
want, need
not knees
scratch ticket
plant trees
make truth
not breed
less because
more seeds
love you.
(love me.)

"All is Well"

Grass- breathing green,
chlorophyl dreams,
more magnolia matter
than new gasoline-
If someone
told me
"All is well,"
I'd believe...

Tension

Past Tense-
just like
Present Tense
with
more charm
and
less suspense--

I didn't-
I do,
for me, dear,
not you-

Don't worry
you didn't,
I'm
keeping
it
hidden.

Sunday Best

Hand-hold your lover
then put him to rest,
Tie down your mind,
put on your Sunday best-
Love Lost's apprentice
in a white sundress,
oh, love

Good God Almighty
you did it again-
hurt for the hurt
of having hurt a friend,
remember you used to say so
on your skin
no, love

Hand-hold your lover
then put him to rest,
Tie down your mind,
put on your Sunday best-
White dress and records
and you've made a mess
of love

The good God's forgotten
where he put your head,
Left you to wonder
how to say what's not said-
Searching for sunflowers
and broken bread
oh, love

Joshua James cover (Video!)

This is a cover of Joshua James' "Lovers Without Love"- awesome artist, here's some more of him...

http://www.joshuajames.tv/

White Girl Problem

If you want to be a violinist you buy a violin. And you practice, you read theory, and you practice and you practice. You learn your instrument. You observe incredible violinists. If you want to be an incredible violinist you can be an incredible violinist.
                                                                        You are not a violin.
                                                                         I am not a violinist.
My spiney fingers
will not hold water
for fear of
bruising it,
much less art
for fear of
loving it,
bowed, will break
before the resin
could touch the strings,
fear of
reverberations
sensation
approximity
and remedy,
sometimes the worst of me
claws at the best of me

Man
          Man

                   Man
Had me eating
out of the palm of your     hand
not figuratively,

jellybeans-

you held them
up to my face
and what could I have done-
your hand saying
           "take this"
my face saying
       "touch me"

-the mastication began,
a dizzy experience
of corn syrup,
y-chromosome and
color
that couldn't
matter
in a dark room.

You
fine for making
New
ways of quaking
Few
words for waking
To
bend-fold-breaking
Blue
eyes for holding
eyes
Hello Hello
adieu adieu
You

Ann and Cancer

Called you today, Ann without the -e
Born coincidentally the same day
as Charlotte and me
then I am Charlotte Ann without the -e,

would have called sooner
if not for qualms
concerning calling a person
for fear that they will die,
then I was afraid you were dead
and I called you-

smooth southern hello on the phone,
told me "Good news!
It's not in my bones"
My chest, yes, my heart no
and it's not in my bones
the tests have said so
not yet, still no
but oh, it's good to hear your voice

and it was good to hear yours as well,
Ann, and you told me,
smooth-southern told me about radiation,
not because it is the slow snake
that will race the cancer
growing fabric in your body
-not bones-
for your life
but because in order to laser-point
your disease
they had to give you a tattoo-

you laughed,
said we should get pictures together
with our tattoos
and that's when I knew you were dying

because old southern women
are more calloused than their husbands' hands
but dying southern women
just want to love their granddaughters.

And I wondered if you were always kind,
I wondered a lot of things,
It's a waste to not know someone
especially when she's your father's mother
and especially when she's your name,

Ann, I carry you
despite the cups of tea
we planned on but left in the cupboard
Ann, and I love you
like a father's mother,
so that I will not say "my dying grandmother"
but instead Ann, without the -e,
and I will call you next week.

Home VI

It's strange to think,
alive in me
the things I wish
to not believe-
and there they swim
still in my heart
and bones
and mind
like never to leave,
the concept of
gone
so gone from the thing,
like there'd never be
a last cry,
a last time-
a pang sprung
for the path
that cut my feet,
to want
more than anything,
and the grass
to lay in afterwards,
too in love
too deeply,
with each respectively
to care about
anything else
but home
and home
and home
and home,
the two the same
and the way
color shifts
into the east
just beyond
your perception,
western hello
to a cold cup of coffee,
too busy
thinking
loving
meditating
celebrating,
as if
the light shone
from between
God's own front teeth
onto home
home
home.