a collection of looses ends

cracks of white

mind goes blank

floods of light.

I ache.

I sing notes to

the sorrow and joy

I can not place.

oh thunder,

The cards throw a globe across the chasm

I fumble  

Fear blooms in me, a vine of flowers.

.

All of the ships in the bay

sail away from me.  

Alone.

I roll the world between my palms

like a

a peach, a date.  I've never known a fig.

My first pomegranate 

was at 17.

.

We opened the fruit

together in a bowl of warm water.

Cracked it half way to Sunday.

The innards spilled out to the currents

scattering, swirling of stars, smoke.

I strained fleshy seeds from waters

tried to decide if I liked the tang and twisted

crunch on my tongue.

.

There's a sun burn on my lips

hands are kissed by summer

--tulips growing in wet soil 

--scraped knees and dirty knuckles.

I bleed blue when no ones looking

deep oceans, their ripping tides

frothing mouths, gnashing teeth, swallowing 

gasping.  

Red

--sunsets scattered on rough waters.

.

I am desperate to 

hold your face and breathe 

you in for everything you are.

I ache 

for you to see the currents inside of me,

the reflections of red and blue 

cast from shore to shore.

.

I am more than flesh on bone

angry waves on white sand.

I am more than the words I assign to all

my parts.  

My arm.  My lung.  My eye. My heart.

I am more than a mash of sounds

that never synchronize.

I am more than glass to smoke

something that was

and now is consumed

released, entropic.

beyond my fingers, beyond my grasp

beyond the place where we lay in damp grass

--as our dreams twist in and out of shafts of light--

Can you tell me where I am?

I stumbled through a sunset or two

tripped on a stretching root, fell into a pool of stars.

These black waters, sweet waters

that flood my brain and ears

washing away dreams, fears, the rest.

These waters hold me in their breadth

I sleep, I wake

wet and heaving on the shore

basking in hues of pink and orange.

.

I am lost in these thick woods

facing the sky, look at the mountains that kiss the sky

look at our hands against the sunlight

when I squint, my edges blur and my chest aches

.

My flesh is freckled with Sundays

white metal in the suns shine.

I once went blind from smiling back at the glinting bay

I cried, knowing my tears too would shine

with the still waters in the morning light.

.

There are parts of me that that are pulled tight

sometimes I forget about the raised skin

and I will remember with quiet surprise,

that I am not quite right.

.

There may be sunshine in me,

I may have more than scars and stains

I do not know where I begin or end