Blank Verse

disappearing into numbers
and words alone keeps havoc at bay

as raw snow spills over greening bristlecone pines
whose animated arms twirl knots into time’s typeset
and bedrock’s splintering soul opens for explorers
of other bodies to decipher

among banquets of unease, no less than a breath away,
something brand new is carried among crosswinds 
through musica universalis - an immutable muse

or call-it-what-one-will

love is the unbearable
realization that another,
like you, is suddenly
and implausibly real

Epistolary

drafting
is like
touching

words 
carefully
mapping
a knife

(Eros
is a light
sleeper)

and glances
as tender
brushes

of restraint
delicately

willing
to steep
private
loneliness

in greens
and squalls

crescendos
refusing
too soon
a conclusion

among
diminishing
stores
of time

August 8, 2024