thinking about..
I. enigma.
she emits nostalgia,
moves in small breaths evading ammonia.
she is like a labyrinth; if you press against her walls in just the right place you can hear the rushed steps and the songbirds within her.
you can hear yourself walking past on the other side.
the great enigma,
may we meet again.
II. sss.
the sea spills over us up on damp air,
our clothes turn wet to skin,
and we search for anchor.
out here, when we scream the horizon shifts and we sail through seas of stars,
sink with a beavers coarse tail,
drift on the edge of empty tin cans,
combust into comets that orbit their sky.
III. mariá.
im sorry.
IV. arlo.
on all these paths askew,
son of breathless wind, mother of arkadia,
with all the tides working to conspire the very atoms composed of him.
like a photon, a golden shower of fiery flames,
he speeds through the universe
thinking that if he could fathom the faltering rhythms of his own electrons
he'd finally be at rest.
and if he explodes into a million fragments scattering over streetcars,
let me be the nest he returns to at dawn.
V. spirit.
of the nebula conspiring
the absolute quasar of his soul;
i’d sift through the galaxies within his eyes,
identifying his asterisms.
VI. emmet.
i often think about placing you in between the thick sheets of a scrapbook,
encasing you within pages holding the souls of monarchs and fireflies and grasshoppers,
to preserve your aura within the cellulose of flattened stems and petal.
a glimpse into endless beauty, all at my finger tips;
i’d keep you safe in my bedside drawer,
and read you the shrill and hymns of our cosmos.
VII. salem.
to us,
resurrection is nothing new.
the world is but stone in your path of glory;
painted in virgin blood and the breath of moth,
a dust of a mote of your power.
so bind my wrists in hempen rope and bleed my veins dry.
i offer me, to you.
VIII. nyx.
i think i'd sail to the edge of the earth for you;
rearrange the very constellations of our cosmos to imitate your aura,
scream at the sun and moon to revere in you just a little longer.
and it is your name etched into my bones,
that brings me back to my roots.
IX. nux.
look, how the sun reveres you;
your spine enveloped in winding roots and petal,
the stars that rearrange to imitate your veins.
and it is my bones that yours will rest against,
in wake.
X. anxiety.
out here; at the mercy of snow and hail and moonburn,
you entangle me around your finger,
breathe nostalgia into my mouth and encase me in hiraeth.
you build me a home of vine and fern and leaf wood,
while i’m entranced in your familiar scent;
rose water and the spring air of 2015.
has anything changed?
XI. magnus.
do you remember how warm our nights were,
imagining our life over bonfire screams?
i live in you still, as you live in me.
through flapping coats in the autumn wind.
in hot july your name vibrates through my bones;
a stabbing reminder of my sins,
of what we should have been.
two young flames colliding in all the right ways.
XII. vox.
i think one day,
we will crash together like the sand and the sea.
stars fading to nothing as we drown in salted water;
the stories i’d tell you as we sink to atlantis.
brother of a deep starless sea;
sister of sand castle and key.
XIII. rushing waves.
have you ever noticed how crashing waves sing your name?
how the very tides rotating our earth revere in you, mirroring your aura and breath,
how you speak in crisp morning air and rose water.
you are the sea salt that runs scratches along my bones;
the keeper of my sixteen year old heart.
XIV. pigeon.
do you not see how the earth sprouts and blooms for you?
(do not forget the pigeons food),
how the tides conspire waves and storms in your name;
freeze ice pods in your honour,
(do not forget to give the pigeon water).
have you ever noticed,
that the universe itself has rearranged to mirror your aura?
(do not forget to give the pigeon love).
Winter Month: 3 
Night 
Fog Moon: 
