PotentialIt will never be the same, will it?Those clear Autumn nightshave detached themselvesand floated from all that is constant.Orange and brown leavescrushed beneath our feet--our warm breath still tremblingoff of each other's faces:ever suspended.And sometimes I longfor that young womanwho lived for you:a piece of my self lost;slipped between the accidentalbrushing of our hands.Pining to reemerge.Within lives the "could have been"more real than truth.
June GirlThe June girl wheels in on mischief-trouble's bicycle;seal eyes are wantingto leave dark charcoal in stubborn hair,branded onto her lungs.She waits by mute guitarsto catch hope in a pillowslipas it floats by on a wind,and whisper her desires through keyholes;they have gathered dustunder the rug.Pencil-tipped fingers grasp at peace,and don't shrink from those who dare to laugh.Searching deep for the rebeland finding there is none:only hummingbird jarsskipping on velvet clouds.
The Perfect EscapeVanish into an ink cloud;enveloped in curling dropletsthat swirlin liquid atmosphere:the perfect escape
Love NotesYour melody has infected my core,filled mewith the very rhythmof your heart;and has left me swaying,swooning,and dumb--playing the scale up and down,searching for love notes,and longing to danceto the music of your soul--every sweet harmonyand bitter dissonance.Then I will leave,and never speak a word;please,just play it for me.
SaltDive off the salted rim of a galleonto tangle yourself within crested wavesthat trap youand bear you forthat the same time;moments that make all spacesequal to a heartbreakand its cureis alive in bending water-the drunken enclosureof Earth's womb.8-31-08
OpportunityOpportunity is sleepingbeneath the skin of the water,cradled in a shell dish,silently-like cold fingersspinning strings of ink.Wait for itin the spaces betweenthe whoosh and whurrof a calmed breath.8-31-08
Boney FishBoney fish glidethrough tea-water,developing violet wings-and rise beneathpearls of amber droplets,glowing from cherry trees;a secret that dreamers keep.8-30-08
LongingLonging sits impatientlyupon a thin glass chest,collapsing it deepwithin the hollow;near a flutteringbruised heart.