holding space for
past disgraces
in hands of crystal
pressed to
face
to profess
truths
that return
hurt
to place
of rest
as toes touch
earth.
mindfulness
echoes of ivory
stain this lounge blue,
while hot liquid saxophone
melts my ears too,
the microphone’s got
a voice of
its own,
amplifying whose
truths?
blue flames in
frames,
swollen eye
paint,
wincing through
steel rains,
watching birds
grow faint.
can’t get over
things..
that never happened,
and can’t climb
over forms
that just
exist
anywhere the sun
won’t kiss.
fate came
clawing
yet he evaded
its grasp
with a faith more moving than
the words chosen to
describe it,
while beneath skies that rolled
like jewel lined
meadows
he glanced up to find
remnants of
you
in that
never-ending blue.
he rinsed both
hands in the
sink,
watching the soil spiral down
a drain, corroded
and clogged
he
scrubbed,
marveled that his
nails came
so clean
after living neck
deep.
and inspired were
dream clouds
as we stood
beneath
them
in a pose that had us
believe we could
reach them.
listening in ways
that open
me
to depths i’d long
foreseen,
then when your lips
parted to
share
i felt for
what you dreamed.
like stars
in a blooming cosmos,
those flecks in
your eyes
held me
mesmerized,
as planets swirled
about
us
threatening
collision.
this city in a
raindrop
and my eyes crawl
all over the
window
trying to find a
dry spot,
thinking i should
see you
soon.
hands in the garden 
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