Once in a while the water splashed the table. The beer stayed cold while our skin warmed in the Mediterranean sun. Her face was smooth and mine was rough. Always something in me was dying while something in her lived. The spray on her hand I kissed, while a dying crustacean let go and drifted unimpaired into the unknowable sea. 

The sky changed its color, and aging, we asked for nothing better. We tried to describe it by touch, the cold body climbing into bed, heavy-eyed from wine, sinking, and trying to fulfill one’s obligation to the other forever under thousand guiding lights, above and inside.

There, slightly drunk, he took up

the pen where he left it after the last

fight over meaning ended with some

lines that would take some time to

find their tracks within the sounding out

of his heart and limbs. Now, the gray

sunset showed more than the barren branches.

The birds and I made it to the opening of the tree.

So much has returned, so much has come.

And the birds, and I, who had everthing, are one.

What it meant when one

held to one’s self the ankle of

another and thought of both

Achilles and another who has

weight that presses on both the earth

and sometimes on another planet

which sadly passes in cycles that can only

be predicted in thoughts measured in accordance

to ankles lifted with all the sensations of another

that is assured they are not weightless nor ever were

Why, when the sun catches

the teal neck of a duck and the

creaking bridge promts a metered

vision of another time, and

in the distance, even of a city,

an animal calls our attention to

the fact that it is there while we

cower under green canopy to find rest

near the water and the reflections

aren’t mythical but of us,– does it not

seem true

We drank the wine and ate the bread,
strode steadfast to the nearest window
and saw: The intricate outlines of leaves
under a dark blue sky that is more a
feeling than a color. One sixth, we touched,
of the moon was brighter than the whole thing.
And in a strange sad way I felt strong.

---

Dark blue skin with reference marks,

retained sun rays near the heart.

Phrases swept off hands before the

organ moves to push and part.

Places where a body longs to

sense a sentence not too far. Nearly always

did we. See

at night. Never

hard.

He walked around the flowers

and lost her. The scent of rain for hours,

the north star. Traces torn off petals

from fingers. Night air pushing down, out and inward. Window open, lonely one heart tolls, faster, must he, lo for the time grows

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What the tide brought with out shame, the remnants of a past ordained.
Even faster filling in all the foot prints,

lines, and sins, that run and written savored in, the water to the ankles bring, to lay down, roll round, beg begin, if only for a little swim in something all encompassing  Read more