you say,
both of us loving to fly—-
airports being the peak liminal space,
you say
everywhere’s a liminal space
is my retort
your body’s a liminal space
I want to stay forever,
so you text me in Austin:
your flight was delayed
your absence, I can only pray,
is liminal, too
a golden pedestal sits
fifty feet in the air
dangling from a pretty
golden chain encrusted
with sapphires and pearls
which ancient nations laid
at the king’s almighty feet
the monarchy’s reign vanquished
a crumbling palace remains
looted and left to rot among
footfalls of rolling hills
the golden pedestal remains
tarnished by years of neglect
cradling the idealism
of the precarious king’s nation
which patiently awaits the return
of those lost to precious time
ignoring the hills of gravestones below
There’s an oak at the city park
where I have to bend my neck
all the way back to see its tops branches.
Lichens line up from roots to leaves,
woven into the bark, bifurcating limbs
lacing and layering shades of lobed green bodies,
so there’s no separating them from the
substrate of another living thing.
These masses built on symbiosis between
algae and fungi building homes in the shadows,
masquerading as part of bigger being,
a coalition of hidden life.
Droppppped my. Phone
listening to the STROKES
pokkkkking at My gums with floss
and now my haptic has brooooke
!.
Shouldn’t have laughedd
at Kevin Nance’s
writing abboutttt Oscar Wilde’s boooookss
being whisked away to separrrrate noookss
!.!2!
ww
aaqqq
3
I organize the fridge
the bathrroorom
ad cabinet with. China and otherwise
bored out of myy mind
only 24 hours
between walkingg
thhhriftinggg
and reading on. Paper
instead of the safetyy
of elecctronic. Display !
q3qqq
This quiet season stirs my heart.
Restless beats
Coursing blood with nowhere to go.
Fighting the still romance of small lights
I yearn to fly through woodsmoke and starlight,
Beyond the Crisp acrid loneliness and the taste of cold on my lips.
Little bird, take pause.
Close your eyes
Breathe in
Settle and be still.
There is strength in waiting wings.
She messed up yesterday,
And so she lives the day again,
Her perpetual future ’til she gets it right.
I don’t steal
except maybe pens.
If a pen is in my hand,
it goes in my purse.
I don’t mean to steal it,
it just happens.
But rocks,
I steal them –
nice flat ones
from the landscaping
by Sureway,
smooth and round
from the coffee shop
parking lot.
I paint them
and give them away.
So can’t we say
it’s just borrowing?
I’m so in love with you.
I know this isn’t a song
and my words aren’t very
eloquent
and
I’m so in love with you.
I want to catch your
breath in my mouth
and
breathe it in
so we can keep
each other alive
for a little while.
I want to bottle the feeling
of your hand on my knee
and
drink it deeply
to maybe satiate
whatever this need is.
I think I more than love you.
I more than love you
so much it’s desperately pathetic.
But for you,
so am I.
