Footsteps of a foreign being
scattered on my pasture heart.
Spinning, running, standing, leaving,
dust on dirt imprinted marks. Those
that reach within it’s beating, merely
did through tracing paths, never daring
running, reeling, where it ends
and also starts

Infinite forms of feelings for you, never make a safe landfall, lost between the rocky shore to, past the present through withdrawal. If between a thousand green blue spots appearing with closed eyes, the only point that prompts your heart to warm your body is inside. Lodged within with nothing there to overwrite, a fall spring night and the thought that on the earth two beings share a finite light. Signal that I may not find you, though you glow, were warm at night, always know a shimmer of you no known darkness dares to hide

Memories hang onto banks of
sight and smell, of sounds being
washed and carried somewhere
away, where plants that fall at
the feet of the receding sun,
recall no sunset nor where it
has gone, and rocks before dark
clenching leftover warmth, co-
lections, excessive day breakings
and dawns, a heart implores up-
wards to full empty sky, where
traces of red and some thing you
and I, saw as we looked at each
other below, diminishes

A voice fades on the inside
though it’s called through re-
collection and the time weighs
more at night time, sensing
depth, space, and dejection.
Daring dreams to prove the heart
that sound and scent were
soft and sacred, and return that
self-same blood which traveled
outwards; nearby spaces. For
we moved and stirred as one, while
counting hairs that fell upon two
chests like stars, caressed by the
hands of God

The stars become reflections as
eyes are running through them,
searching for connection, the past,
the now, the new and a longing
that’s outgrown, a body, face and
nature, the world becomes a new
one, the stars regain their failure

The sharp edge of the moon
slices everything in two and
words still unheard must exist
for it, too. When bloodlines
bring color to visions in sleep,
seven instinctive days on
repeat. Words for a feeling
that happened at all, the place
where a star slowly started
to fall, times-agos when words
were in us imparted, like dreams
without sound, heard miss
you wholehearteds

Through the seashell sounds of youth and
unfazed words which seep into, stubborn
ear and resting heart, a song which soothes
every part. Waves of white and breaking
salt blue, gesture God and peace upon rue,
warmth flows navel spaces ports you, grasp
with faith in nights and days, too. Sub-
merged in sound a sand like child grew, up
to ponder all things else blue

When the weight of the sun’s warmth sets again
and begs to look and hold again, and dreams
are dreams again, and the sigh of a hand is
fate again and my limbs and moons controlled
again, the ground will stare at
the first and last moments of light
warm late into the night again

Before gold summit curves that pen
marks of young boys and girls trace to
recognize the shape of permanence
in the world, before lines are remembered
on a face and counted like the rings of trees,
before the transience of weather and now,
everything was almost close to the
outline we saw clearly as kids.
Barren stones which may become
ridges someday; beginnings
must feel like endings
at the end of them

Eyes fixed below the horizon
have filled the heart with rocks
so that there isn’t
much space beyond each breath
left to see things that aren’t in
too many little pieces on the ground to
tell who they once belonged to.
Used up by time and forgotten in beauty: intact

Meaning I remember but forgot
the words to, beside the face
of a vision that sleeps when I
do, over hours of escaped silence
and any slight wind that recognizes
a moment and sends blood beating
to counter the shapes where warm
eyes touch parts and drain the sounds
of under a night sky with a little time left
before bed. The time since
the time since, old age regret