χάρις

The sky is sad with me today
But we'll be brave
We will not cry.

Dream Documentary

We ride our rusted bikes towards
the pointed sea, across
dirt paths with old cars
and doors in the ground—
mine, faded green, without handles
that I hold onto the turning spokes of
my traveling wheel
and yours, sturdy, wide
turning the course of the ocean that
shines azul in the somnolence of day.
We stop for tea with
Indigo, and
she with beautiful ocean eyes
in an old caravan painted blue
with tables veiled in cloth.
An old lady asks to see the
hands of my brother:
"They are soft, gentle," says she
And I, jealous for a moment he has
gone first
Jealous of my room in which he
now sits
I slide back, somehow knowing the world
rows on despite my grievance, somehow
knowing things change.
But a picture of us two, us dear
and unassuming
Laughing with head scarves and sun shades
and dripping cones of ice
All is well in our technicolor world
All is fine within our dream

Soliloquy

All the world's a restless soul
Planted, with half an acre
To grow, and
Half my heart
To fold.
She spies
The wind blown rose bud,
The crown of the sea—
A world behind a window aged
She dances with giants
Upon the sun-soaked soil that
hugs her father and buries another.
But her songs atop the noble pine,
Soughing in the valley,
Cling, climb the knotted branches
Green the withered needles
With eager hands that sing
The mountain top's tired hymn:
"We wake, we wake"

Blossom, Grow

Brother says,
"Waves are like hands
That pull you into the sea"

I haven't fully unpacked yet
I've got all my lives in brown boxes
But out here
Where the air is freezing, and
My breath blows as a cloud
There is something piercing
As the sun's glare

Maybe, perhaps
I will dive into the seven-armed sea and
Its open grave of seamen
For I am a sailor, sailing
This black and stormy tide
But there are galaxies in my eyes
That murmur like a breeze
Rattling the crusted boats
That sleep within the harbor

But also there are stars
In my eyes, in my soul
And they burn and radiate
Their sparks of light -
Melt the insides.

They remember, I remember
Our vision of summers past
In a gold and silver land
Of meadows vast and castles full
Born of adventurous desire, and I
I watched the mountains grow.