1. I love you when your voice drifts into my sleep

larger than the centurial dust that we keep 

between us

on smokescree nights like these

when we lie so near 

yet so distant 

from each other’s reason

and the love we fling to the wind 

reminds us each of a child 

who tries to feed a pigeon

with the crumbs of thrown stones

but stuns what they set out to hold,

with the hurt that casts over 

the others intention 

like the body and skin 

concealing what we will never own

2. I love you when the touch of your mind pools

in the warmth of your blood 

and you remember again 

the euphony of our disparate heart

so I might think 

that you only let the window

to the universe of this glass house 

called love, open the blink of its curtains

only if we part, 

where our love is a foundling 

foundering in the sea of us

and from there 

you look back at me 

with eyes licking the brine of my fears

with hands brushing so evanescent 

along the locks of my mind

that the color of sense 

is any tsinginingini thing 

splaying Into everything 

for a defenseless second

when I feel the presence of our love 

in all you have forgotten 

3. I love you in the mornings when I lie asleep

under the papyrus reeds 

and you gaze into me so fiercely 

that the lines buried in my face loosen             

into the oasis of your lips

I wake up then

when we remember 

the dune grass dance of love

whispering through the tendrils 

that curl outward around us 

listen or you will lose me 

The autodidact’s wheelchair

sun slap green, 
worn, on his corduroys

as they flap listless

like sleeves of the missing

limbs of a scarecrow 


draped on the monocle, 

the wheel of his barrow

tapping red flip flops, 

catch on his tongue 

like thoughts un handled 

by the rupture of words,

bones no longer own.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.
the glow worm of his pupil
alights in the constant dark of day

Rain bird

Rain bird –

carry words

like bags

you keep

under your eyes

weight is light-

air feathering    

itself in rain,

pressed

to mist 

upon your face,

knowledge 

is colorless 

if not your own,

a chiasmus

longer than scope,

the swallow of the horizon

is the dip of the universe

behind your eye

oh petrichor cosmos

stumble, choke, 

carry forth

mind from earth.

sound scent the rain,

upon each leaf cascade

unwrap infinite, this gift

like the promise bearing breath 

from the ellipsis of dream 

as I still the song of the rain bird 

to let it live

House no.4

House no.4
1. Thirty year labyrinth 

yes, you have never left, 

waiting like footstep

stuck in a sand sketch,

cleft by the driftwood 

of childhood.


You taper stretched 

this lifetime 

a map of me,

the intricacy of your veins

draws me like a delta,

silversand drowned 

in seedling memory,

fig fleshing an orchard 

from the silt of a sewer

apple mango, cherrypear avocado, 

papaya passion, guava          colors

that curl in us

the tendrils of our language

2 Tonight, where we forget 

ourselves,

and the soft spoken bandage

of our love, 

the happiness denied

comes alive,

clattering 

the teeth of the sublime

in the cat-licking blink of the tide

Where you are you .3

is where we are free 

from the yearly limbo 

tracing the solstice’s step,

made and unmade,

ruffled like the covers

of the jugular tide

but you awoke today,

stayed in your own skin

long enough 

to break me from mine

and the bloodthicken 

tears that balance me so near 

the drain of the sea 

have grown me 

the orchestra of a flower,

purple white passion, 

the infinite lip of oblivion.

tear drops, or the candle’s flame

tear drops or the candle’s flame

1 dew drop

embody the ocean

where you cannot

follow the motion

trace the rain 

pit pat

patterning 

mabati 

morning 

dropping 

on the mind

like pauses

coiled 

in the insomnia

stars will bring 

2 language 

lay inert

tomorrow speaks 

today 

as it has done 

yesterday,
this 

is the moment 

weighted on

a pendulum 

the horizon

but a blink

trickling 

nectar dream
lucidity

in sap stream eyes

3 experience 

the tsavorite transience

of the paradigm sky 

sounds fluttering  

behind the blind 

white eye 

Dream totems

on the tonal presence 

strangling the undergrowth 

of what you see

you are as mad 

as reflection 

as truth


perceive 

again, 

begin

in escape .4

hypnotize sense

revolving 

the mind 

of light

 

yes,

emotion.

my home.