the dawn seems
so far
from this
place.
we are fragile
beings,
soaked in the misery of
being alone,
our thoughts are
static
hiding in the lines
at the end of a
record
turning idly on
it's
horizontal
axis
over
and
over
under the
caress
of
needlepoint.

he smiles at me and tells
me i am
an angel. i mean
no harm.
i
mean
no
harm.
she wept and said
she
tried
to keep her broken heart a
secret. i
am
no
cypris. i
don't know love
under restriction___

stepping back, we
noticed where we had
arrived_ nothing but
children
lost and
wandering blind eyed. we
had no concept of
god back then; we
found spirituality in
imagination. we
found
imagination in
some image assembling itself
in the backs of our
eyes that defined everything
using pieces of,
abstractions of our
souls; youthful, daring,
lustful creatures. we
found god in our
bodies; glimmering, curling
in strands and
sinews- veins and cappilaries;
strands of
nerves. we
found heaven in
our hands;
explorers of territory
all but
forbidden,
newly
discovered. we found
ourselves
responsible for the
beauty
we earned in
youth.