somnambulism

i’m thinking of a word.

i just learned it yesterday &

it’s beating on my teeth but I can’t

seem to remember.

my fingers trace your mouth like

maybe I’ll suck it from you, find

that word & all the rest,

all the meaning the world dripped

into you in my simple

back and forth movement

on your chapped lips.

it’s not that special of a word.

it’s just—

it describes what this is:

right now as the

fire in the grate breathes

slow steady warmth, opening yellow

on our skin like heat daffodils,

your face in half

shadows, hollowed out

by this slowing of time,

this non-sequitur dream

walk where words

lie slumbering at our

feet as we communicate

through looks, glances, stares

because words never capture

everything but it's nice

to have the right one 

damn what is that word.

transcience

the needle punctures acutely sliding

slick silver shiny into saccharine veins that

palpate gentle & blue under stark white

harshness. fluorescent gods do not care

how my blood pinches into the vial, do not

think much of mortality,

would, in fact, drain me dry with sleek mechanical

emotion, my arm unfolded to receive

such blessing, trembling slightly, goose flesh

pimpling softly to remind my soul

how much body it still is. blood, dark with

longing, gleams violently

in its glass container. “is this you?” blood-taker asks

holding out labeled vial--

she wants me to look at my name, say yes

that’s me. was me. but honestly

I’m caught off guard by how the blood swirling

so calm, pulsed through my heart

just minutes ago.

icarus & i

lodged in the soles of my feet,

this urge to stay planted forever:

a pleasant dull thing settled

strong in my grasping toes.

stay. let me grow

steady roots clutched slow

around all things

solid brown earth.

--but!

such sharp quiverings

bite my stomach, worm

tingling into my widened eyes until

I see nothing but futures

ghosted on white sea-cliffs.

watch me rise

into the cloud crusted air--

watch me meet it all

in splendor!

come calliope, confuse

the fear that sucks my

head earthward;

heaven tastes a closer blue

with these dirt-caked feet 

balanced on lacy glimmers.

the sun is too tantalizing

a thing. better to be

safe on soil

but then how do you taste the
wind birthed freedom

of going

of touching the beams

filtering golden around the cusps 

of being more than

human, wax, feathers, earth.

that time we traveled to the stars

last night, we fell heavenward

together into that star encrusted

abyss black with bygone dreams.

with my ear pressed to the skies,

I heard your heart reverberate

with sincerity, lying with our

bodies sprawled in the middle of

your suburban street.

you said look upside down,

so everything became new—

the trees grew into the clouds,

the gods rested in the gravel,

Christmas lights replaced the stars.

I liked your way of seeing so much

that my grin stretched the cold

over my cheeks, wouldn’t let it go.

come, you said, let us travel

to that star!

they will love us, I said, for we

will bring them bacon! 

heady with hubris,

we floated into space, arms out-stretched--

(we must have looked like idiots

to the neighbors)

then bright automobile lights

blazed through the middle of

our musings, so we scrambled,

dashed, left our dreams of

star conquering behind.

but walking home, the taste

of triumph was still in

my mouth, and your hand,

when it reached for mine,

held deep pockets of

unheard dreams that I

ached to gather close.

slivered

here we are but small things, specks

in our vast starred kaleidoscope

whirling of universal longing,

melting into the black silk of frosted

night air, we hold each other

for warmth as my bare toes

stretch stretch into the wetness

of your eyes,
anchored here,

the fogged car windows

glistening with our

temporal humanity,

we perch on new beginnings

that breathe queen anne’s lace

soft on our souls—

how strange. here there is nothing but

holes where our eyes once stood!

we’ve cast them heavenward

with the purest of pleas,

our hunger softening into our

bellies child-like; read my palm

please, tell me how goeth

the winds these days?

my tremoring fingertips brush your hair:

nothing has felt this right since the

moon slid white-blue down my cheek

that listless summer night,
made me lick my lips for want of future promises,

yet quick! taste

the cinnamon sharp satisfaction
of simple seconds slipping softly by,
melting on our fingers,

juicy with unknowing,

blessed by momentary transcendence,

our bodies working together

to create muscle memory,

pushing forwards cautiously heedless

into our vast starred kaleidoscope once more.