an empty line

i am a slow steady waltz. moving across the floor at an even speed. my floor pattern consistent

all that separates me from the stars is a difference in chemistry and distance. this is the eternal equation. these are the numbers i cannot compute. the nearest decimal point seems endless. i am reductionism to the extreme.

and you elude me only in silent moments. when my breath is held and my tension is pulled. you are fences and i am wide open spaces. i am holding the empty line.

Scattered

I am walking through the house picking up small peices of myself.
Fragmented thoughts scattered. Particles of cohesive wholes.
Limping through the afternoon, sleeping through to evening.
Stretching my skin in all directions, trying to slide back into myself.

for the earliest hours

as the day grows into itself i am settling into my skin. the mayhem of last night leaves the house silent. it is only me and these keys keeping watch over the morning

in the thickness of the evening the wind picked up. we shifted from sweltering to cool. the atmosphere exhaled in long deep rythems. the timing impeccable. we were blowing away. i abandon all my dreams of ropes. i remember the lessons of sap, and slender branches and leaves.

my brother and i, sitting knee to knee, sink into the ground after so long in the air. these low pressure systems, so heavy in our spine, give way to changes promised by radars for so long.

displacement

the mornings cease to be sharp. the sun does not catch upon skin. in these cool, green hours, you could be forgiven that life here is gentle. that this is an easy place.

yet, sure as the slow buzzing of the alarm must lure me back into living, there is a threshold which must be observed.

if you go walking in this place, if yr own body does not fail you, the mechanics of the desert will displace your remains.

requiem for an unclouded night

I kamikaze in time with cicadas.
Blame it on the moon.

I write requiems for stars. Force everything to be finite. Embellish small actions into grief. Mourning the passing of a ciggerette, the emptying of a cup of tea.

I am spinning tragedies from the wide mass of the universe, as it spreads above me, and i below this. Savouring the moments between contact and separation, between together and blown apart.

Mimicing all the significant aspects of creation.
Dispersed between the poles of time and space.

head in the sand

Up until now I have avoided distraction.

In the late afternoon I grow tetchy. My thoughts tick and my shoulders itch. I am less like water. I am dry and receeding. I am mimicing my landscape once again.

I am thinking my way through the days. I am falling only into my bed at night. My dreams of ocean liners. I am floating only on special occasions.

The romance of distance and isolation and nothingness becomes me. I fall over and over and over again.

on beginnings

my heart hums a slow steady song. my bicycle chases the ranges into the setting sun. my soul goes west(ern) chasing guns.

so the year begins.

i walk perimeters, real and imagined. sit in the corner and observe all i see. i am making notes and lists. learning habits that one day will be mine.

when the days formalities are done with, we imbibe the tonic, fight flame with fire. our sins of the flesh are shared with light hearts.

our shells are cracking
it's been so long since i've seen her this way.