everything looks deeper with broken rainbow eyes

warm-hard, these moments are like stone
as the leaves fall, browning. i
could fall with them, almost.
there is a loneliness
to this air, its wind. a pushing-away.

hover close, she seems
to say, warm-soft in the wet
light of her eyes. she could fall too,
almost, her wings so translucent
they don’t quite exist.

so i hover, resting.
it is a long way down
even for those who can fly.
i hover, staying. i know: pick
the sun-light out of stone and pulse

and air, and watch, and stay. there
is a loneliness to this sky
in its blue dry light
as the leaves brown and fall,
even for those who can fly.


On gray days like this
i feel my words, wasted,
poured out unceremoniously
into monotoned ears.
The hours last for weeks,
ridged skin bridging
space to fill a vacuum
for an instant then
leaving, a hollow on the side of the bed
where your body should be.
Even though it’s December each
second is not quite
frozen, slow pulse ticking
inside my soul as it drips
crying through uncupped hands
onto earth that has already seen too much