i.

"my cold ass
against your thighs"
inside the soupy bliss
of afterwards
like sprawled out poems
on sweat-stained sheets
drooling with hymns
and confessions of a bygone astronaut

we inhabit different worlds again
spilling seeds
we bring back to earth
our war against the candlelight
slipping off moss and tongue
day by day in words we will not ever say

ii.

the world is an unmade bed hungry for
the marrow inside
the farthest reach of daylight--
willing bones and salt water
in unbearable fingers of sorrow
our henna hands blossoming stranger art

some of us are thieves
plundering the stratosphere of theory
some of us are lovers, a peculiar kind of potting mix
blending and sorting out the details,
tightrope artists crisscrossing each other
in balancing acts
we seldom fall too far away

iii

there are rusty hinges on ancient iron gates
holding back the sea air
we are thick and grey with elephant hides,
insects make the ground holy
for angels to plant us in their mirror image
like mud and clay gods

iv.

ripened fruit
you and I bite into each other
shedding life after life
dragging broken wings
and losing our way back

v.

birds of morning feather haiku eyes
and the sun throws shadows in our way
we are weary and unremarkable origami folds
beautiful swans winging away the night before
nothing matters but acts of love that make
us somebody even for a little while.

vi.

The moon knows the sun even in her coldest light.

vii.

Dancing on the water, we are walking on air.