Waves plunder the shore,
Describable by their frequency and strength
They have passed through this plane for eons
An infinite sequence—they will do so for eons more.
What function must they etch into the sand,
Into rock and the life here? What shall we converge to when the sea has done its work?

I cannot view your motivating terms—
I see only what’s in front of me. This flat and
Fixed interpretation, dependent on time
I will continue to fathom what I cannot see,
And hope so much is there.
Riding on a complex plane,

Interesting little circuits
Configured like a brain, perhaps.
Little nascent impulses, like twitches
Begin your creature-breath in 5-volt lines
The nervous system of a small and simple existence
And the factory printers, “your warm mother”

When I pull the plug I watch your light go out slowly
But then a sputter, a dying breath, and a small pop
Like I watched your soul fly out from my hands,
Tethered by this umbilical, copper embrace

Such a gentle creature
In body, mind, soul
I want to …
I want to eat you whole
Moon shaped iris with its
Prescious little crescent roll

In a dream your iris
Continues to expand
And the eerie pool
Of reflective and sweetened darkness
Spills over, outward, everywhere

Your relationship
With the breathing machine
Gradually turned into a symbiosis
More and more present in you

You needed it, of course
But without you, what is IT?

A machine without a purpose.

Family sit around, I can hear your voice in theirs.

I wonder
Without you
What are we?

Drip, drip dripping through
A crescendo in your shoulders
This water rises and falls with my heart

As rivers run through your collarbone
And splashes grant us ease
I ask that you be mine, forever.

You breath contentment
For the first time.
Your body has shown your acceptance.

I could walk, now
Into the trees
And have a place to rest

Make my body a branch
Curled ‘midst moldy bark
Returning into nothing again

As nature, I could just be
And watch birds
Feel the grass
And be okay

As you lay down to sleep forever
Your father holds your hand in the casket
And I asked myself
If you had any meaning left
In your bones

We all return to dirt in the end, I suppose.

Your rest
Is unremarkable and quiet tonight
Sickly mud–your heart’s symbiont

When they found you,
There was really nothing there.

“What’s the occasion?” “It’s for a friend.”

At the horizon, in my mind
There is an infinite little space
Where I can reserve hope that there is no such thing, as No More.

I will look into it here and there
And think of where you’ve gone.

I shall look into the distance, now
Where earth, and skyline meet.
And forever know, that you are there.
Unmistakably
At peace.

You never woke up
Or at least, that is how I imagine it went
Now that you are gone
I cannot ask permission
To continue

In your absence.

I can only feel the ground beneath me
And ask forgiveness.

We all return to dirt in the end, I suppose.
…

Innocent earth drips from your ears
In your sleep
Your rest
Is remarkable and iridescent tonight

I am forced to wonder
Who you were when they found you

The same mind
Empty

A black hole is only “black”
Because it absorbs light.

Instead, there is nothing where you once were.

When I call now,
The emptiness will never call back.

The difference between “not accepting”
And “not understanding”
Began when Lucas called me back.

The worst of lessons that I have learned, in life
Is that there is a horrible distance
To climb
Between the two.

I am full.
Raptured in your iris silk.

I could retreat there, for eternity. Back to dark.

I pray that I’ll see you
In the field amongst the heat and hazy distance
As golden life reaches to your hands

You look younger in my dreams.
Maybe when I see you,
You will smile, like you used to.

Ash falls onto your shoulders
As my heart plays drums
Through my fingertips
So gently
On your neck

You are burning away,
Perhaps I am your kindling

Either way,
As deadwood clears I note
You are brighter now.

I note your skin
And it feels like mine
At the warm crowded creases
Where it crinkles up
Like your shoulder blade
It’s against my palm
And you move, asleep

I wonder what you dream about and
I hope it’s me

I felt your voice
Through your skin
In the nape tucked deep beneath
My palm
Your throat at peace
Mine, dry.

With fitful flutter and fine-fused bones
You tread the day upon our home
A broken face with past to match
Your heart, your soul, it moved so fast

I hear crickets, cicadas, breeze
My childhood song
And I feel wholly myself,
In the damp air.

…

The leaves
Stare toward me
In the moonlight.

The branches dance at once, together
To a song beneath the air.

I wonder what they would say about me.
I’m not here, in the night.
Only my childhood song.

And I wish to meet you.

The voice
Of a breath
Tells me everything I need to know.

I make little jumps at you
Just to see your eyes alight

And I surmise
That you are unreal
When you watch me, captivated

Your sharp breaths
Tell me I’m not wrong.

There are many others
That those eyes admire
More delicately.
And artfully.
Than I.

So I surmise
That you are unreal
When they trace me
My reflection stares
Baffled
In its halo frame

And when you look away
I am taken,
In anguished pieces.

For this is a prison
I have entered,
By choice.

The light beckons golden in your iris
The arc iridescent, for I
Never thought about their color
When the sunlight danced
On your skin

Your fading freckles curl
At the edges of those perfect
Little lines
That wrote themselves on your face

They say hello to me
In a thousand tiny shouts