Tuesday, April 28, 2015


Art by Gianni de Conno

We walk the tightwire of decorum
with such determination!

who leads, and who follows?

A certain frailty shatters the air
between us. An organic whole
self-generates from the fragments.

rain falls from other skies

Uncertainty torments certainty.

is it your breath that’s crossing the
bridge of my cheekbones and the space 
between my eyes while i swallow the night?

In how many other ways 
have we known this moment?


In how many other continua
have we created and entered this
space—and its inverses—before?

your pulse quickens like a
hurricane beneath my tongue, on
my chin, my collarbones, my waist

Do pendulums pine in the dark?

bring me night blossoming jasmine
to drape over the yearning
around my neck

I am distant, far away…
the watcher on the hills.

bring me scalpel and spoon 
bring me sun, bring me moon

I attach myself to The Unspoken—
leaving all else behind.

When I own that I am lost,
I find my way.