A planet left out for you and me To blow like dust a cerulean sea And feathered blue light Such an elegant sight To unsettle the dust

In frost covered fields With garnets congealed A pomegranate drips Scattered seeds amongst the star-lit field A twilight blooms

To scrape beneath the surface brings with it its own mortality. To bleed and feel a fire made flesh. Ruby colored pulp trickles downward, sometimes slowly and at other times with a flush of emotion so to drown out the hours and days and weeks and years of otherwise monotony. Sloshing up, spilling over, at moments gushing out, until it’s all spent at the bottom of the hourglass—that damned silhouette in which we drove with a turbulent force your vibrance and my rage. To fee

I stood at the edge of the reflecting pool With water cascading, lush and cool I jumped into that pool of sun And sank simply down with lungs That filled easily and felt freely To live and breathe each day brimming In that reflecting pool When God reflects, I thought, it might be something Fresh like this with cold gulps of water between billowing breaths I sat and thought that I’d lived for a day Until I realized that I was in shades of grey Like concrete smacks! But blue at

You’re like a force field that contains the blaze in me because you learned to grip fire with your hands You’re a phosphoric, Promethean Man That bends light to you Clenched in your hands to Mold like clay the silhouette and form It’s not that I disdain the flame or the fierceness from which it storms But I shift to mirage my glow In folds of gold And blackest smoke licking at the vision, Blinding from the sides of that dark fission Missing you nearly, blooming in ash I could

I have a love for beautiful views that began when I was a child. I’d sit on top of the monkey bars or sit in my favorite hemlock tree just to see from that vantage point. I watched setting suns and moonlit skies from this view. On summer nights when the neighbor kids were catching fire flies and eating ice cream, I’d sneak upstairs to stand there in that spot watching everyone below. I pressed my nose up to the cold screen to feel the cool air of summer nights waft in on m

She was squished up in the tire of their pickup truck when I heard her meowing. I crawled under and found a little grey fluff of kitten, not much larger than my hand. She had grey eyes like me. I named her “Storm,” and snuck her into our basement until my parents found her and then she disappeared. I never did find out what became of her, but even as an adult I think of her sometimes.

I’ve been casting you in lineaments, you vaporous thing. You’re a distorted mirror that bends ‘round my mood. A cold surface of marble sublimity. I etch your cheekbones with my fingers, high and smooth. Two planes set flush beneath the eyes like me. You, ageless woman, The Queen Of The Abyss. Sometimes you seem a bit too cool to associate with me. Pure inhuman ethereal wisp of my subconscious feathers wistfully the dream. Your fingers spread like spirit things that st

Fireworks burst like Dandelion heads I blow at the sky Wishes bloom in red

And gold drips through fingertips —coagulated sunlight— soft globs of me spilling out everywhere.

I’m neither here nor there. I feel instead. I feel that I’m far off like stars and cool night air passing through the window, breathing in and slipping out again, a hushed love affair with an imagined state, the feeling of freedom, the freedom of flight. I’m not a woman but a dream instead and I feel…