Together,
on a shore of stars
with waves
from the dark universe
crashing against us,
we made promises
to each other.
We walked on sandy stars,
stepping on the edge of light,
staring into the sea of darkness,
feeling the currents spray
eternity on us as we kiss,
we watched comets leap like dolphins,
and the darkness sang like sirens,
we laid down on the shore,
with starlight dangling in your hair,
next to the howling abyss,
and I started kissing your body
while the darkness
enviously kept calling us.
When we left,
I took your favorite planetary seashell
so we could always listen to the echo
of that night and our words.
You wear it as a necklace now.
.
Our lives may not be perfect,
but we live for moments,
such as that night
when we acted young and reckless
and drove the universe
crazy with jealousy.
We live for the wild freedom
that we only find in each other.
I opened
the envelopes of my wrists
and pulled out two red letters
for you.
You always liked my love letters,
but my goodbye letters are better.
Do you see my heart pulse on the pages?
The pentameter of my heartbeat
exiting your mouth as you read.
The exhale of my breath
coming out of your mouth
as you recite my warm syllables.
You gift me immortality.
I have two coins
behind my eyes,
mirrors I use to self-reflect,
I see runaway women
walking in the corridors
of my mind,
their feet blackened
with holy dirt
from the promised land,
they peel back my thoughts,
like skin from rotting apples,
smearing the dripping fruit,
on the walls of my brain,
painting dream murals.
I am a slave to my muses.
A head full of runaway women,
my madhouse dollhouse.
Let’s play.

Hey piano player,
I can hear you playing downstairs
as I sit in my naked room
in a state of tomb gloom.
Those notes press through the walls
and like wild flowers thrusting out
of white sand they bloom
into the other side, into my empty room.
They shuffle
through the old crackling paint
as if it was dry dirt and they rise.
I watch that exotic rain forest of notes
rush from the walls like a glowing green candle wax waterfall,
musical leaves splash out, press against, and become crushed onto the walls,
forming a boiling fresh layer
of whispering paint.
A color invisible, unseen to the eyes,
but not the ears.
The echoing paint drips
from the sizzling wax walls,
I look to the ground,
and I hear all my silent fears drowning in those smoking puddles of sound.
Hey piano player, I love you,
you heal me, you cure me
with the screaming magic from that musical rain forest,
its flaming leaves tingle through my ears
slowly growing inside of me like a shining new organ,
it takes up its own space,
an organ of
whistling flowers, roaring branches, singing petals, and ringing leaves
all curled up around my self-mourning heart,
constantly sending the illuminating sap and thundering dew of joy
to crash through the quiet painful darkness of my soul.
A flowery organ
which teaches me how to live,
burning away my fears and drying up my tears with its fiery pulse.
An organ which helps me laugh,
which constantly pumps calmness throughout my broken system.
.
Yes, today I am the happy man
that smells like smiles.
Just for a while I forget those fisted hands
which taught me
that laughing was a waste of time,
just for a while.

I wish I wrote you.
The syllable count
of your facial features is perfect.
The way your hair flows rhymes
with your glances.
Your clothes fit
like tightly lined up stanzas
and when I read the words
with my lips
I find the meaning underneath.
I wish I wrote you,
but I am no such wordsmith.
I memorize you
so I can recite you whenever I want,
keeping you on my breath,
I always have your taste swirling in my mouth,
permeating my tongue.
When I pray
your lyrics
bleed into my words.
I speak with divinity
through you.
I live life.
I hold my city’s hand,
embracing her imperfect culture
like she is the only one for me.
I kiss the scars
of the fractured streets on her body,
admiration creates traffic.
Her night sky hair
falls on the hills
of her shoulders,
She smiles,
her skyline shows,
buildings like teeth.
Her lower lip
an ocean swell,
her upper lip
an ocean wave.
I spend my summers
caught in her kisses,
at peace on the tongue
of her shore,
watching the sunset
and her lunar artistic community rise
and draw her lips up
into a grin.
I live my life
with my city.