Feather Weight

A kiss creased into a back pocket
Smiled unexpectedly
In reference to a present opened on Christmas,
An item thoughtful and needed
Following a fence post wanted

A knock prior
Passively echoing a feeble voice
Whispering

Shake dry the sultry atmosphere
A brush of moist air passing through

Dive down stairs like submarines learning to sink
Releasing ballast out of habit
Plunge mechanical
Skin rusting
Oiled joints moving with effort
Onto couch cushions-
The very bottom yet just beginning to,
This is where it begins

Trading finger prints with hand shakes-
A continued attempt to show these arms are
Harmless
Continually striving for contact

Laughter asunder
Subtle oxygen deprivation
Pupils dilate in accordance
With action perceived,
Teeth reveal themselves
Peaking around the corners of a mouth worn upward

Ambient gossamers of cerulean float freely
Between
Two telescopes meeting-
Bashful harmony brushed gently
Into the inner folds
Of knees swollen,
Wading water convinced pressure
Could crush such a thing

A throat ladened dry
Spoke as if swallowed by
The undertow
Gave response to tension-
A note to be read
Until the words are wet and impassive

Diachronic Dissonance

Quiver gently
Onto tree roots and reach for me darling
River of mine, love of life oh,
Great companion in the journey of reincarnation,
Watching you erupt every season illustrated fearful
At once I might fall or want to jump
In, now it’d be an honor to drown,
Kiss your red-stained lips chip
A tooth on rocks eroded smooth,

This romance is unconventional but I know
The makeup of my body I know
Humanity is suffering only
Together and alone waiting,
I will wait for you river
If you will wait for me yet again,
A twist of hair braiding sediment
With sentimentality waiting for age to accumulate
Become a layer of limestone exposed
An adult I’ve grown into and still,
Close you are it is this feeling of distance
That can’t be consummated and how much longer
Will it be before in harmony our structures will be joined together?

This world is uncomfortable
My body aches in knowing I was once free-flowing
Thought process still stuck in a past life
An ear to earth I hear roots growing and I understand
What a sunset says but this tongue fails to enunciate a clear translation,
Panic stricken staying up late carving canyons into skin
As if blood and water are indistinguishable
Gutters abundant under glossy eyes
Crying in attempt to grow flowers and forests
How is it possible that at twenty-one
I’m no more what I will be than what I am?

There Was A Place, Then There Was Nothing

Thin sticks snapped in half
Plucked purposely as if our beating hearts
Were special, souls ripe and fragile,
Beneath what heroes is this moment owed to?

For long tomorrow, cloaked in razor’s mist
Alone, out beyond where crickets dance
And fish become airborne,
To what celestial bodies are responsible
For the placement of you and I here together
Cradled in cedar wicker baskets?

A swish of river water, a toast
To concord finally, breathing so gently
We are where we need to be
But like birds’ nests our presence will only be noticed
Long after we’ve fucked and flown away and our children are no longer crying

Evidence existing simply in decay-
A ragged collection of once life,
Amazing how skin cells
Become the epitaph for happenstance,

Foot prints leading to soot
Hiding within them an abstract
Pattern of context migratory diagrams
Synced flying straight to smoke
Signals sat broken
Under oh, great blanket of missed opportunity
Warm and comforting
What have we done to deserve this?

An Epilogue of You and I

Settling for
Sand falling in precipital pattern,
A cloud cupped in your hands
Formed an hourglass spoke nothing of
Coincidence rather, we watched
Intently the flipped motion picture
Of a mountain evanesce into transparent mist

Potentially blunt ignorance
Or just enjoying a sentient moment
Of naivety, loosely strung
Cotton clothing embraced the moisture
As gift from Lake Michigan,
Shaving warmth from skin
To accept this weight felt closer in sharing
something other than a kiss,
It seemed limitless
The possibility of being able
To walk anywhere

Barren feet beget tandem path
Turned twisted pulling memories from momentum
And the smallest actions go unnoticed
Distance in inconspicuous space
Hinting at inevitable outcome,

Breathing-a mercurial montage
Fizzling forth collective images
Immortalized in wet cement
Chalk drawings of cigarettes
Lighting up caves of empty
Fields between hair and glistening cheekbones,

And the last grain of sand stumbles
Triumphantly to earth
And we felt such relief

A Collective Obligation

Carbon caked to barren
Feet walking on ash then
Dirt ran to water wash
The mess away, right
With grace, if anything at all

Fire forlorn fighting aphotic
Precedence set aside sticks
To burn set aside each other
As well birch bark wrap old
Wounds in words carved from
Apologies and cambium, if
Anything at
All a semblance of sentiment perhaps
It’ll be found
Clinging to wayward horizon

To Lean

Walking sticks carved by hand
Grown thoughtfully once
In a place abundant with life
And a well documented history of surviving,
Cut respectfully give to take- a piece of me
Left behind to seed and sprout
Syncopating ancestor and beating heart,

Wander unnoticed leave but still be remembered,
Little bit older
It’s a little harder to run

Dried for year or two tucked
Next to sage nest flowering alabaster,
Plucked when cracked
Worked with bramble talons scratched
Then scored give to take hands textured
Wrought field rock, leaves whittle flesh to form
Passion is pain is forgiveness is amelioration is repetition
Is hung to cure for a few days-finished
Well, at some point separation becomes inconceivable
Willow bough adds a year through law of conservation
And I’m twenty-one
But my knees are a broken foundation of sawdust

Maybe Hope or A Huge

The trees

If you turned the lights off
Let night saturate atmosphere as embers of
A once roaring fire now smolder beneath
A blanket of ash glowing just so softly,
It might look like a bustling city,
From a few miles away,
Grasping at silhouettes of oaken statues
Reaching for a familiar hand
The space between main street and this palpating heart
Has grown so distant
I tell my heart to slow down
Driving back home to where lights
Shine a different context,
Not to get excited
A memory once sung has buried itself
Once providing strength
Now wormholes long and hollow
Leave me fragile and petty
Not to get excited,
The lake has evaporated the fire
So going 55 seems more a punishment than celebration,
Not going to the infant incandescence
The pyre waits as debt and birthdays fill empty space
After all
What burns better than dead devotion?
Eyes lock to the sky as we get closer
Pretending for a little while longer
That the memory of being alive is tangible
And my heart beats fast
And the city climbs atop the statues
Glowing just so softly
And something’s waiting for me