Lashes of weather on my cheek, unquestionably!
Ah, the frolicking landscape, indeterminate, unclear, all for me!
I applaud you, Velocity, you give me strength
To own the seconds, each sticking to a different petal,
A different raindrop on my brow, ah, the microcosm!
I shake the winds’ hand, my hand shakes. We form company
Or merely open up old relationships, I ask with every breath
After their long unseen cousins mingling with
The East Coast crowd, adventurous.
Wings aflutter, like sparrows they cut through the sky,
Thoughts unclouded and empty, is this the visceral attraction of freedom?
Is this the empathy of forests in my nostrils; pines, yews?
Will I share wordless stories, will I last so long to catch every murmur?
Oh, how it pulls me!

I close the window
And let the world re-enthrall me
through your smile, when you look up from the book you’re reading.

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air torn in half by amber angels
no less real than
a burned finger.

pure as laughter, time’s debtor
the knot of flame
will pass with the very first caress of draft.

A solid tear formed from its exertions
comes to rest not very far from the ground.

in trembling crescendos, so it goes word by word

in multiplied silence

how impotent the pretense conjured by mind,

meagerly dwarfed by absence vast as heart

palpable as flesh

 

how stultified loss becomes, a parasite on routine

fed by devotion, fear, memory’s soft pain

for life had the potential to be

to be good, or not to be this futile

a trope, for sure, but clung to,

for lack of all regularity

we cling to rituals of grief and forgetting

and the frightful/fruitful thing is they work

The roar of griffins over translucent mountains

Shakes the air and quells the tearful contemplation

A study in parting, from a bird’s eye view

Is only a figurine and then another figurine

And the objectively measured space between them

The tears’ infinitesimal volume makes their burning

Unbearably on our skin, negligible as a contribution

To the air’s temperature.

 

Amidst the fanatical efficiency of leaving

The consecrating touch of the skin on your fingertips

On my fingertips, remains as unforgettable as a frame of reference

A reminder that they shall connect again, soon, again soon.

And the soul crunching agony of emptiness

As always best expressed in naïve lyrics of a pop song,

As always wrenching the mind, flogging tears.

But it will soon be over, won’t it? Won’t it?

A wintry day has sat upon the throne,

Its reign short and bloodless, and grey

Timed departure ensured by the old and bony guards of leafless trees

Ushered him away, another concretized tyrant welcomed

In their cemetery, a little drawer in the kitchen where we put the pages of the calendar

And bound them with a rubber band and then throw in the fire.

The incineration of forgettable past, of paper thin hours

To layers of ash, slipping through the fingers as you pick them

To show them to your parents and say: hey!, this is my life’s story

Take it and spread over the ocean and enjoy its scratching between your teeth

This is the taste of too much undeserved love

Of the snigger of timely demons, masquerading as the tick-tocking of your veins.

May not all our days be wintry days.

I no longer had the power of truth in my eyesight

Flicking through canopies of fallen trees

Abiding by the color of the magazine, making amends

With the wind, howling soundlessly just outside

The memory of your warmth that attached to me

Strong as Jim Beam on the rocks

And floating

I no longer had the power of movement in my feet

Sucking on promises of shrinking spacetime

That you will inevitably want of me

Soon, so very soon

I can’t tell myself it can’t be done

I still hold the picture of you imprinted on my temporal lobe

And so I am enthralled

And so I leave you

As paralyzed leafs hush your gentle tap-tapping away

Away.

The criterion for rain in Miami breaks down

When streets sit cross legged lie in wait for it

To pass, like, the pharmacy at the corner where you buy your cigarettes

And toothpastes and blood-curdling devices of the sort

You nowhere else could obtain.

More than a heartbeat in the soaked asphalt and veins

Break out to the surface near the crossroads,

Where cars stop to take a deep breath

Of immeasurable distance ahead.

Stooped, glancing over your shoulder under the weight of your own

Unimportance, egalitarian rain sees you so.