Late one night between the streets
I met the man you don't want to meet
He had a smile and a backpack
Coming from nowhere with nowhere to go
At first I was afraid
There was no light in his eyes
But his voice was so hopeful
He was the loneliest man I'd ever met
They say we're all lonely here
That we all go out alone
And in the space between the words we know that death will ease our pain
But he was There, still thinking he was Here
He was looking for someone to take him home
Or some whiskey to warm his bones
He needed a touch to kickstart his heart
In the dark he told me I had a light that shone down the night
And smiled the saddest smile I'd ever seen
I wanted to give him everything
But you can't hold on to smoke
Or give gifts to the dust

When I go I will go far
I'll follow the sun from the riverbed of my childhood home
To places where the mountains hold no snow
I will sing my freedom song to the birds along the road
I'll braid sweetgrass through my hair
Cup my hands around the moonbeams
And sleep out in the air
When I go I will be
The stars in my own eyes
Wool blankets, blue crickets, battered books, tall trees
I will be strong legs and bitter tea
The climbing of the mountain for the diving to the spring
I will be art out on a blanket and poetry sold for free
Abandoned cabins and agates on the beach
Cold water in the morning, apples eaten to the core
I will be anywhere I need
I will be everything I see, and then a little bit more
When I go, I will be
The sun in my own eyes, the sand beneath my feet
The ocean in a cup, for it takes salt to make me clean
I'll be the moss on every tree, a moving prayer on folded knees
Whispering bliss, singing praise, thank you for this day
Thank you for the sun, my heart, the sea
When I go, I will go free

I like the thought
of the sweet sound of breathing.
I like the breadth
of time spanning shoulders, tanned hands
and sunshine on irises.
In the sun you can be more than what you are,
just like in the dark.
I like the thought
of a lover to roll through me,
like an anchor or an avalanche, a new start.
I imagine I'd like the taste of devotion.
I imagine it would taste like the the ocean and
sound just like waves crashing-
a paralyzing undoing, rewriting the land.
I like the thought of making love like art,
but the sun can be cruel
and things fall apart in the dark.
So I think
I like rain the best,
the way it makes the leaves sing
and my eyelashes cling.
No, I never could complain about the rain.