than the autumn leaves
flying off the maple trees
in late September. I
remember when she

was smooth as the
bud on the maple and
round as the kitchen
table. She’s falling faster

than the pouring rain
on my windowpane in
drops of Jupiter. I remember
her juicy and green like a

cucumber.  She's falling faster
than a roller-coaster, with her hands
high up in the air. She once was
a seat, like my chair.

Today the trees rehearse their part,
each leaf a tongue, each gust a start.
Amber altos, crimson bass,
they rustle hymns in sacred space.

Let your feet be the conductor’s wand.
Walk slowly.
The forest is singing.

Moonlight folded,  
a mouth purses shut.  
    Ears rise,  
                corn listens.  
The scarecrow whispers—  
dreams scatter like chaff.

Awake,  
by stillness of the soul
               I journeyed in on hyperbole
        carrying on without extol;
I found myself alone without
        the privilege, of unsent clout;

Placed inside a              *Dark Universe
     I never heard the stars rehearse
            astray inside a sky,  immersed.      
I felt I was beyond repair,    
inside this black hole of despair.

Boundless and bent each muscle strained
             like tapestries of night unchained.  
        I  .... the artist without restrain
dipped my brush in sorrow without shame,  
choosing ink-black, for spitting rain;

Flecked stars of heaven,        * Cherry red
                   yes, I'd been mistaken for dead
                  for I had lost my homestead.
Dark blue for the background,     great hue
                   for a girl who was black and blue!

Awake,  
by stillness of the soul
               I journeyed in on hyperbole
        carrying on was my main goal.  
By the seaside,                   where bird's nest    
                I sketched a solitary crest


for it was there that I felt,  I was at my very best !

How few things we’ll remember as we enter our graves.
Will you remember the streetlights dancing?
When I tell you of broken homes and withered bones,
Will you love me anyway?

When you found my crusted eyes,
you made grace of what was grave.
I’ve practiced concealing my vile thoughts,
Carrying them to the grave.
But when my sordid mind surfaces,
When all that is impure surges—
Will you love me anyway?

When I tell you of broken homes and withered bones,
Will you turn away?
For fear you might drift too far,
Sailing down this way.

I know many things will be forgotten at our graves,
So let us embrace our entirety—
While we are here today.

you know how you can hear me,

when i am thinking. ‘yes that is because

i came from the forest, it is quiet there,

we can hear everything’

yes.

‘where have you been all day?’

here and there and felt the air

on my cheeks.

‘ so i hope the blanket of sadness

is lifting?’

yes. thank you bear.

the hardest landscape
we ever attempt to cross
is not mountains or deserts,
but the hearts of human beings
the hardest terrain
we ever step into
is not earth
but each other.

I would rather live in the shadow of us,
than live in the daylight without you.