how the clouds assemble, how some appear to merge, altering my wrist, amputating the ability to draw, only to pass through me, at different altitudes, slowly mourning the fatherly smell of you, we have communed together, with visions ultimately undisguised, you now pray before you close your eyes, building temples in this art, till the day your color departs mine.
-My father
to the slevelessness of your skin
patiently watching your shoulders
your feet gently pressing
taking chords intimately
we are loud here
maroon tinting smiles
these waters collide
lightning a pattern
more transparent
tiger’d by color
in a moment chiseled by a pair of hands
I recognize sometimes
when stretching out my hands
my chest rises, falls
nerving more reason, more love
I follow you like a ghost
hunting you with a jar
with badly stitched gloves
caressing you with evidence
each time you turn
a child hunches over you
altering your blood
with a hyacinth for a heart
dismounting my deafness
a silence caught in telephone lines
slanted as this photograph
the perfect spot begins
nouns and verbs gather in daymoon
a metaphor is birthed
unexpectedly in a place made of pomegranate juice
an eldery man and woman lean over a bridge
their red shirts reflect like a scarlet lily pad
i understand their language their body parts
the dizzying spacing of W O R D S
much of which is made by wind
returns and sweet touches your throat
adding C A P I T A L letters to your speech
frequently
and profoundly
evermore
