I can see her,everlasting ripples along glass.The river is carrying her through the earlymorning light —a linen sheet soaked with sweat.Chemtrails overhead, silky seaweed below.Sadistic figures crossing the creaking bridge,cursingan embodiment of monogamy — of loyalty.A supercut of innocence within one frame.Did you see in between the valley of her

Whereforestrange things surfacesuck souls barely knowingthey are alivecry as they’re lostto hate.

I choose to be seen for whoAnd whatI am To let it be knownThat I would rather shiver in the coldThan let one person stand aloneIf I enter these spaces by the grace of my face I betray my sisters, My saviors Who are shut out from this placeAnd I

Waiting for the wind to changeHer mind to rearrange a strangerWhose face is fear, flashes of death and dangerPresiding inside hallowed halls of bathroom stallsAn image, shattered glass shards, a life apart from all that was With ease and simple pleasuresTo wander freely in the night, to speakWithout the need

A deep double-Throat, singingFrom beyondHeaven (or hell)Echoing in natureAs it finds itself Heard inA human voiceLike a whale’s call PerceivableBy its likeEven afar acrossThe whole Pacific

-519- Iheardthe flittering ofbumblebee wingsamidst the dandelions,beckoning the mothers,whose babies heads poppedoff,to weep milky whitetears for the wind their childrenwill never know.Shorn free of their emeraldfabric lashesandleft to bake on pavementfor the blue jays, sparrows,and garden hose.Lifted bythe cool smell of wet gravelon this,the day the rusted spokescarried me through

Jigsaw is the tool you use to make one.Such a human hobby, cutting up the picturejust so that, on a bored, dark winter evening,we sit down to make the pieces fit again!But when it’s finished there are always cracks.You have to back away and keep your distanceto cherish the illusion