hundreds of cylindrical shadows
take their places in the corners

this room, an
aluminum barrier between
disillusionment and
the moon.

we
revel in blue threads
stricken by curiosity of
what tomorrow tastes like and
the habits of natural
romanticism.

sun baked shadows
trapped inside
corrugated cardboard
boxes
illuminated in red and
basking in the natural oils
our skin creates.

we annunciate life
like lines in the sand;
tracing voluminous, entropic
places
to the ends of the earth.

spoken like gesture, i
swear to all gods_
flying above ancient
craters of the moon

and its rays
become your voice.


there are quarries of ancient
peoples)
electric green lines
shaping her breasts

in this moment, you turn
my thoughts.

i forget to ask for things;
like no butter on my toast, or
for you to please
please
come home,

either way, the result
conjures up the same
nausea
creeping in my stomach
i
have
gone crazy,
neglecting my own advice to
those who have neglected me, my
sense of self lingering
somewhere on french
canadian pillow cases
from a lost night
of animalia and
wine; i was dripping
down the shingles on that
rooftop before my
sun even had a chance to
rise.

there is a beautiful moment
happening
here while i
am
aching for something real,
conjuring up memories
from moments
of my heart
existing explosive in my
throat; i exist

separately
in bed, and
in the beds of others,
having developed fear
of being
alone.

these
dreams, and reason
produce monsters.

i swallow twice,
recalling a moment when we
were birds;
light-hearted, and
blue-eyed,
wrapped in the
comfort of
some blue quilted desert
morning and
your arms_

it was your arms that
brought me home.

waking from a five-day-
long dream
feels like spinning, but i have a tendency to
embrace vertigo like an
excited child.

(i fell asleep and woke up
with this curve in my
lips that could only
happen in an alternate reality)

lucidity taught me
multitudes about
electrical currents, power lines,
and palms-
fearless and chattering we
continued to move
bald tires across a stretch of
pavement i never realized
to be so beautiful.
these things can be instantaneous,
but i am well
versed in the language of
pulling open my ribs, throwing back my arms,
losing my head, and beginning to spill an unabashed
mixture of thick liquid
from my veins.
some call it self-exposure,
but i see
complete release; drenched in
a certain gorgeous shade of
vulnerable.
we are deaf and blind
experiencing the taste of
crazy for the first time in
our lives through the tongues on
the tips of our fingers.

tightrope walking on the currents
of power lines is as
thrilling as traversing
hundreds of miles just to
learn someone from the inside.

and i'll tell you what i learned;
i saw for myself
the appearance of the cosmos
under water and
upside down, i found
the far side of the stars in the
fibrous
expanse of vast blue
encased in your corneas.
i heard what the melody of
my body sounds like
sung for the first time
shrouded in a heavy cloak of
twilight
strung up in the most beautiful
silence of
exasperated breath.

i found the ocean in your
stomach and perpetual
moonrise in your
chest
creating footprints on the
sand between
nodding my head and
shouting

NOW I KNOW WHAT GOD
MEANT WHEN THE
EARTH WAS MADE!

there are hours and days
twisting a feverish
mist into one
large gulp of fresh air

smooth; we are sedated,
slowly beginning to dream.
we have espoused the sunrise
and swallowed the dawn
with our hands

as children outside older
bodies watching an old film
full of flowers blooming
at four hundred thirty two
times the rate of
reality, and we
no longer exist on that plane,
emanating beams of blue
twilight in place of words
that would say in exasperated
desire, how satiated we were
from all the salt dripping
down sternums,
pooling in the space between
ribs, that tasted like dawn-light.

sinews unweave.
electrical boxes full of ventricles buzzing
with a foreign current
so strong, it
knocked us backward upon
initial contact.

darling, i swear
i saw part of the cosmos
separating the iris filaments in
your right eye,
tiny nebulae trying to
explode our cardiovascular
systems by
showing us how to drink each other
until the sun comes up.
we are escapists of
uncalibrated strength
manifesting ourselves into
ideas only shakespeare could
conjure up and
cummings could express

our morning hours creep like
spiders on the bed sheets that
wrap the green of comfort around
our bodies floating fearless and in
disbelief.