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Birds stitching
the invisible fabric that holds
up the sky.

Death
and what little we understand of it
breaths leave blossom that
lace naked branches.

Language has a new cadence
of laughter.

And yes,
it is surely spring.

Other

Letting go
of something I was never
able
to hold onto.

air           water
          .
sand           fire


I feel these for you.

I know it's
something unwanted
right now.

But I have arrived.
I cannot unarrive
here.

I can however let it
go,

instead of pretending I had it
in my palm
like a rock
or a bead.


It can fall
drop for drop
word for word,
it can baptize the wrinkles around the sentiments.

It can run
farther and father
deeper and deeper,
it can shed it's clothes and transform laughter
to copper wishes at the bottom of a concrete fountain.

It can splatter
beads of cascading fragments
stretching across all eternity only
to merge again
with itself or its other
creating recreation.


It would be foolish
to try and stitch those back together.

What was never built
cannot be destroyed.
Only the idea-living
or the feeling-being of it
can consume a man.

Let it go.

Meandering and being
without paradigms or parameters
in the web
flowing freely to feed
the nothingness that is
and the nothingness it creates.

I ponder whether my removal
frees me to myself
or binds me to its other.

Dawn of the Muse

The energy in our molecules
hummed in harmony.
Bursting out expansions
of mental matter, they
feed the other wordly,
other,
mother
within
child-
to play,
to see
as we might hear the quiet tones
of shared understanding
in one another.

The humming sang
songs of thriving
like spores spreading seeds,
and thought bubbles bursting into
a glittered dust of ideas and imagination
that infected and came to be.

Your bones,
your being,
experiencing itself
and
expanding itself
through
other manifestations of
itself,
ignited suns and stars
in my mind
in my time...

And for me,
for that instant,
was the overture
I wanted to work towards
to create the master piece
which would finally fit
a finaly into the nook of my being.

Universe within universe
singing together in harmony
drums beating through the bones in our bodies
colliding
creating
chaos.

What a beautiful, tangled web we weave.