This land of strangers
Where metal and plastic have choked the streams dry
A metaphysical wasteland
A literal ghost town
Yet there sits
Deep inside this concrete jungle
A man
with a fertile heart
Where prayer blooms
I read your letters again. I vibrate with
Warmth when I touch them
She knocked on my door insistently
Not now
I responded
Tonight I am alone,
With You.
There is a step I haven’t taken, I know
There is a chamber in this palace
More inward
Perhaps you will come and find me here
And lead me
Deeper
Or perhaps only in my blind stumbling
Can you be seen
Only in my loss of direction can you be found
Or perhaps you were in the eyes
Of that drunkard
Outside the palace walls, whom I hurried past
To meet You.
I have never known anything like this sadness
She whispered
Into her own ears
The physical distance of the tongue to the
Heart
Is misleading
There is no veil thin enough
To explain
This is why the wise are silent
It is blasphemous to speak
Of all else
Don’t wait till you die
To see this
All the things you put onto the mirror
Will be cleared
At that moment
And you will see
Your reflection
These ramblings are crumbs scribbled
along the forest floor
to remind me the way
home
because a pig in a dress is still
a pig
and the truth in it’s mouth it still
the truth
If I wake and your face is not on the pillow
beside me
I will spend all morning
Searching for it
If it is
I will spend all morning
Gazing into it
There is nothing beside you,
I want to be beside
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