we flutter a delicate

we seek snow and find instead

moths 

pupils spark turned upwards 

blinking blind from fire to sky

a scintilla

a meteor

piles of dead insects

in your bed

blast-away motes  

cautious in the cateye

hallowed holes for cantankerous crabs 

a daring blink and the universe will skip us

so here you slide your hand up my thigh 

the polyester sleeping bag swishes around us

a whispering windstorm amid giggles and burps

we seek fall and find instead 

rain

Everything in a moment.
Everything in motion
The mouth of the stream muttered wet poetry, “Sull’aria.”
The deer moved softly. Ballerinas on the tips of their toes. Tap tap tap the surface of the earth. The herd of ten uttered no farewell. Spindly cervine shadows disappeared into obscured forest.

moments

are

memories

in 

motion

He bowed his head into a coffin

 and a yellow fluid ran from his mouth 

onto the floor. 

zeffiro.

pretend that you live near a stream

and the water of that stream makes strangers fall asleep

and when they sleep, they are vulnerable

pretend that your blood is wanted and you’re running

you always wanted to be on the run, 

because fear frees flightless birds

pretend you are young

pretend you have romance on your side

we could go sledding if you weren’t cold,

we could go skating if you weren’t cold,

we could do anything but you’re fading 

 My neighbor has not played clarinet for weeks—there were no sounds, there was no music. A drought of music. A curse of lingering, stagnation, with no sign—no promise—just the emptiness like a blank, opaque circle—and I was at the center of it--

Until today. I can breathe again—finally free from the weighted responsibility of suspense. Momentarily. 

The swan has returned.