while not completely surrendered to the drams of emotion letting you in, turnaround.
my niece is helping a man she once knew to open the doors
inside her mind. i just wish i knew
what this all meant, and somehow
to come above a simple meaning of prepositions. the selfishness aids me in realizing a plane upon which to portray my elephants, or perhaps mice with tiny suitcases. i need to know
the color of your longing.
if i did, the bleakness of this summer would not be as alone as ice fishing in juneau, wishing i had at least a crisp sheet
to pull around my shoulders. i never knew
why that ray of moonlight swung so low, but now… i can see it in my mind’s spectacles,
a scintillating fragment of perpetuity.
it always sings like a forgotten
island deep into the ocean waters, coral reefs enclosing the solace of a maiden. she may not know who i am; it doesn’t matter.
i can feel
the pressure of her longing surrounding me, and i wince from it. and suddenly the lamplight collapses, and the mist rises into the filament that used to house my hope. if illumination is the one we seek, a brighter
Light awaits us at the end of the street.