She Is A Barely Open Window; I Am A Burst Of Wind

Your lithe form
sculpts monuments of insurrection
upon my careening eyelids.

From here
in the depopulated wilderness of my heart

I traipse hastily
through stabbing blackberry vines

straining to capture the elegant flutter
of your voice;

like a butterfly
suddenly arriving in a still forest

you serenade me with rolling waves
of brittle-but-beautiful silence.

I am a moss-covered rock,
whose jagged edges are embraced
by the subtle textures of your flourishing smile.

how mother time’s
apathetic glare

holds firmly
like a blissful noose

around the necks
of her abandoned star-children.)

In this exquisite palace
of infuriating splendor

I am but a tuft of feathers left
on a lustrous marble walkway;

preened from majestic songbirds
with dinosaur eyes

I softly slide
across the calm void

my ever-hungry heart
eternally stalking the violet skies.


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