those three syllables that drank from tropical
waters, grew roots that tapped into the alveoli...

and the years come cascading down;
i’ll be the first to admit that i dream way too...

april, with bloodied fists, heaving breath finds
respite where your clavicle meets your sternum...

tonight; we drink our wounds
earnestly, searching for melancholy...

you are a constant. you are light. you are
a wellspring of hope. you are on the cusp...

transparent words; the strings still dangle
from the same lips that sprouted them...

like a bull-elephant sharpening
tusks on tree-trunk, i take to...

of the lands that you and I know –
we know intimately, that this land...

an unsolved puzzle –
the words escape me...

and it’s summer again, your words still linger...
i don’t remember what was said, that much was...

The shadow visits me when the moon
unravels his luminous beauty, swaying...

when the sky blossoms mauve,
the words we marinated with...