i've been sitting under
the same tree for days and now
the leaves are leaving and now
the bark is peeling and
is this what they talk about
when the sparks all flicker
out?
i've been stoned enough
times to be called a martyr and
my mind's been getting hazy
lately
how do they expect me to answer
all these prayers?
i'm not a saint, i've just got
no grasp on sin.
it's the sound of cicadas harmonizing in the heat, while i drink green tea with a hint of mint, that reminds me of sunburnt hours spent hiding away under green and between pillars of carved bark. those are the times when we discover the simple and true things in life, like blood oozing from scratches and sweat dripping from foreheads and freckles and smiles and laughing with you. when we return to dreams we're all children again, in pursuit of sunbeams and the familiar touch of bare feet on mossy river rocks. the secret places where we keep our memories of wild strawberries and rope swings and the excitement of climbing trees are overgrown wi
Behind my house, there are squirrels as big as puppies. Someday, I will capture one and mail it to you so that you might enjoy a squirrel of unusual size too. I'll send Band-Aids, because that squirrel will probably bite you, and it will be your fault. When we were six, I tried to teach you that. I tried to teach you that squeezing adorable things with teeth is a bad idea, but you never learned, and I chipped a tooth on your bracelet.
In our river, there is a place where two 16 year old boys drowned. My neighbors fished one of them up in 1979. I don't have any pictures, but I thought you would like to know. I thought you would like to know
Give me a night she said
and I will make of you
a new man
I will show you where fascinate begins
and doesn't end
and how a polka-dotted dress
can rule the world
and make of you
a true believer.
I will teach you one and twenty tricks
that will never let you sleep
electricty in new places
to make your lover
jealous
and show you
that unfaithful
is a beautiful word.
You will learn how to dance
a tango
so close and slow
that your clothes beg
to go missing
and the darkness faints
from the floor,
and how flesh decides for itself
where to meet and join
in ways
no one talks about
I will show you
what it means
to fall out
you breathe in waves, softly crashing onto the shore-
musical, thoughtful, smiling.
you're a dream within a dream, and all heartbeats,
and gentle movements in your sleep.
i swear songs sleep behind your eyelids and in your veins-
as you play guitar up and down my arm i hold my breath,
careful not to move, careful not to wake you
(or us) from this pleasant summer night.
all the sweetest memories we make,
dipped in moonlight or laced with candlelight,
kept safe in mind to be smiled upon tenderly
i can't think of you without my heart taking flight,
and my hand craving yours.
the hours are empty without you, empty like
the
I have been thinking of you today, my love. It was an icy morning and as I lay in my bed I thought of you in yours. I could picture it so clearly. You were pale and even smaller than when I saw you last. There was not a wrinkle on your skin. I think your sleep is taking away the years we gained together and returning you to your childhood. Your hair was longer. Someone had plaited it and it hung like Rapunzel's over the rim of the bed, awaiting some tiny chivalrous knight to shimmy up it. I wondered who had plaited that bronze mass and envied their fingers.
The nur