WUTHERING II 

See, I have perfected the art

Of holding and vanishing

Into touch. Is this of love or of a

World that says we need to

Leave to be seen? Like most

Legends, I do not know what

Part of me exists the most:

Every happiness is now mist 

The morning sun consumes --

Unsatiating like a lovers ghost.

My sleeps are now flags that fly

Half-mast like butterflies

Consumed in a wildfire before

Blooming. Lately, I’ve been half

-present & half-absent like God

-’s blessings. And like my hands, 

The truth evades me. Which is

Why I lose everything, including

You, into confessions puncturing

Only white spaces. Sometimes, 

I want to whisper them to you, 

But my mouth stays half-open 

Because no song comes out

Alive in this city. But I’ve known,

After all these years, that the truest

Part of a dream, is what spooks

Us the most -- revealing, haunting

Our hearts with the futures of

Everything we fear to lose & 

Long to find -- including ourselves. 

Haibun For Escapade

see / boys like me now wear this place / as home / and drown / in the tenderness of our dreams’ daisies / learning the languages of places / without hurt / or our blurring // here’s where the harps of prophesies strum / & become truths / like Oedipus’ nightmares // and we say / o’ lord / this / too is a type of glorification / diving into four rivers / mouth-first / into a paradise / buried deep / in our marrows / don’t take away this moment / our escape // & here’s how we found here: one death at a time / meaning / beyond these walls is a spill of brimstones // so leave us here / we’ll need a softer touch / to wake up.

unwearing a home…

boys dive into silhouettes

and stay.