These thoughts, voluptuous
and wholesome. This heart
runs a light line forward from its vertigo
to anchor in creation.

I’ve not outgrown make believe;
Long lingering in ideas not
as yet, made flesh. I imagine,
and all through my imagining,
a temperature that does not speak
to mercury.

Is it a huge emotion or small moment I will carry ever
with me - to find a Soul and safely shared
unspoken mantra - a few words to remind me of
Everything … call me to
just
love
more

what was left out, what fell down as the sky flipped over
restlessly, while I took my time drawing near and catching
what might have been dismissed as debris,
believing and speaking from there or just moving
from there
or just …

Just easy. How easy it is sometimes and I am so simple and simply and
sometimes the answer is just all about
loving, never mind the word. The word doesn’t go there,
but we
are there
already.

wet feathers

A feather across my skin,
memory of a man or maybe
just a dream bending over me, dreaming:
us, while we were off being
unconscious of sub-
consciousness

Hunger is an energy

A feather across my skin,
ribbon of water almost too hot and never
hot enough. filling the tub with ribbons for me;
he is fully clothed. i’m shivering,
listening to the sound of too much
music. can’t separate the tones while he is
rolling up his sleeves

Hunger is a need that wants
left alone

Feather floating beside me, catches my thigh,
melding to my skin.
we are flying or just
remembering. he is bending the dream over,
rolling up his sleeves. intent and tending
me like a simmering pan,
stirring -- soap through his hands
catches colors that aren’t even in the room.
quiet as a bubble, we’re not speaking. silence pops,
exploding, the colors go everywhere behind
my closed eyes and we,
he and i, are exposed
equally

Hunger ruined by first taste
and it can be a long wait
for its return

i have learned to stay hungry

The feather inside my skin,
sky inside it. he is stepping
across the horizon, pulling the hunger
with all its colors,
sleeves rolled down,
into the water

Not empty, the evacuated heart.
Something always stays behind --
goes down with the ship stark naked,
even with ice on both sides of the glass.

No one even tried to catch the bouquet.
From hand to hand the tray passes,
hand to mouth brought around, garland draped
down a long nights hunger, I fall
from loose lips,
crumbs for the rug,
swept under.

There is no room behind my eyes for their
outlook. All crows - and they are so
rude and loud and they shove to gather
and borrow my tongue in talk about
what is not
even really
there.

I carry this glass dream on my shoulder.
Please don’t let me stumble.
Have a prayer, half waiting,
I will fall and drowned like water drowning
in the fine shatter-pieces of my myself
no longer.

Running down the inside of a bell.
A lagging, lost tone. Unheard of,
the sky that calls for me and would
give everything,
has left everything,
has nothing to give
but space and that
is everything
I need.