she said she was born on the edges
of paintings someone had always forgotten to finish
she said she lived on the banks of rivers that never reach the sea
her voice trailed off at every juncture
giving the afternoon a song
that only the heart could hear
“and do you feel this as I do?”
gazing softly into nowhere

She paused
and let a sigh that vaulted a chorus to her presence
it heralded above all the things we could never see
it wrapped it’s arms around the world
and gave birth
to what she had always yearned to say
but language had always failed

from the fragrance of the river
she shed her outer most layer of mistrust
“we are”, she said “incapable of deserting ourselves here"
“it is this naked hollow that
bestows the paths
from which we will approach"

“by looking
into you I have already been laid bare,
let us reach under this skin,
touch the untouchable
and finish the edges of a painting
long forgotten
and stained with the graffiti
of your past”

Our ruins
are our beauty
the dust within our souls
feed the day

The tempest raged back then
I was still trying to ****
the pain of her

Dylan was singing
Blind Willie Mctell
in a sullen and lonely room
where
the vein could not hold enough
to sway the darkness
from comforting in me

I was just trying to find a way
to forgive myself
for being that much alive….

so the poet walked
for years
through a thousand shades
of light and hunger

driven empty
he laid his head upon the ***** of humanity
and so
the soul
fell upon the crest
of beauty and its pain
the forgiveness was tenuous
but alive

I fragment thee….less a cloud than the rain
the portions we partition ourselves from
remain un-sketched
we are merely grasping the edges of an existence
we struggle to know
but in dreams the murals are painted vast
and there
we are whole
I fragment thee….less a cloud than the rain

to make oneself the king
of all us lesser gods
I cast the shadow of my soul
on your indifference
the thin razor edge of your words
drip from edges eroded by these eons
of ignorance