sober

I was laying in my bed trying to 

sleep and I was thinking about some things that make 

me sad. Im thinking about the time I got 

my heart broken, one knows the time. The one person who I loved and who left, twice. It was a relief to have him again this late night in Tucson over spring, over 7 years later. In the stilldrunk sunlight next morning I was barefoot and my face still reached to his chest, his button clearly still aligning with my nipple. and whoosh! I say it was a relief because I let go and remembered that we are older now, that he doesnot rock my world. But I remember it a lot. Not often But A Lot. Im thinking that I dont know who will care for Ida for the three weeks that I am away. That I dont have plans. Im thinking and I have chestburn and lonely contemporsry future. I wish I was asleep and it was later, I dont know. What I wish.

lean-to

It is too soon for one, not soon enough for others. I have a fresh tongue on me, like fresh tongue on leaf. Still a freckle of a beat of a brush against a soft facepart. Still white hairs across my cheeks whispered by a steady hand. Still, I hold in the air. Though a handless air brushes me by, a breezeless breeze floats around, a still remembrance throbs delicately (like a spider heart a beat), nada movement, not a gesture physical.

for #5

prophesies turned true

pictures, car rides desperate,

questioning a bath

for #2

beginnings, firsts or

necessaries, changes up

to nevers again

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

mwyn, or melodious

morllyn, or lagoon

moment, or moment

monllyd, or sulky

môr, or sea

mynydd, or mountain

atgof is memory

.............................................

diffeithwch is a desert