we can wing,
you can bring your lover,
to hop across delicate
stones toward those restful
trees.
thoughtful walks
and quiet wantings
have the branches singing
and leaving us upon this
collapsing star.
you were soft when
i met you, darkness
thus removed and
the white dishonesty of it
all churned to foam.
what is the size of
air, or the length of loss
when you get right down
to it and people in life
crouch from fears?
we can wing,
you can bring your lover,
to wade across toward
the private sands of
happiness.
thoughtless ambling
and restless breathing
have it all blurry
and leaving us upon this
ecstasy moon.
you got harder after
i'd met you, lightness
thus shone and
the calcified honesty of it
all rose up.
what is the depth of love
and width of promises
when you get right down
to it and people in love
spring forth?
we can wing,
you can bring your lover,
to trip among
swords of grass that
scythe the heart.
aforethought living
and bleached memory
have these woods gay
and lifting us from this
soaked sun.
you got simpler after
we'd talked a bit, grayness
thus seeped in and
the broad revelations of it
flattened me.
what is the height of loss
and circumference of soul
when you get right down
to it and people in despair
smile anyway?
people ask this poet
if he walks in some
cloud of misery, to
which i respond,
the lover only knows.
