The essence
of the air this morning
would go perfectly
with a warm croissant

I wonder if these sense memories
we attach
to childhood moments
might ever lose their power

I don't remember enough
years and names
places and pains
are lost in me, somewhere faded

but then without effort
a breeze takes me back
to the breakfast I had
in May of ninety—eight

I can see every detail
of the photos on the wall
I can hear my Mother's voice
shouting we'll be late

sometimes it's a song that reminds me of when I loved someone or when…

More dreams of rain
my body brewing desperation
an arid heart deprived
and the way it seems now:
she’ll never come again

these days every dark cloud
turns out too good to be true
mystery has no home
in forecasts of forever sun
it can bore a spirit

in dreams, it’s mostly hot
a tropic like thickness
to which I run out into
afraid what falls is fleeting
aware I cannot keep it

this time the air shivers and leaves my bare skin chilled I care not and strip some more for heat’s easier to find, or fake in any…

There is a song that swarms around you
with its chorus of lights who dance to it
vibrating, loyal, and magnetic
deep with gold and suspense
it's a symphony that follows me into sleep
and there tangles with your scent
a safe breath of life
so constant and inviting

I take your hand and it tells me secrets I show you mine and they become written there is a world out there in hiding which I wish to take you to with laughing rivers that call to us parts of which only your dream eyes are able to guide me…