Love is the sense I have made from a world with you in it.

Primrose Hill

And my hands clenched the big earth,
The sod too full of water, the grass so fresh,
I cried to the first man who passed by,
"I have traveled so far! I have loved so much!
My dear, my heart is yours, yours, yours,
I merely carry it while I live.
To dust we so return,
And if God made us for such a feat,
I will shake his hand and slap his face!
I will love you regardless!"

I was made for me, and I give this to you. Love is what you cannot help but give, as if the whole world was made to push you to do it. As if everything was in place, waiting for you to get here.


Echo-Love calling Banjo-One-Niner. The outer space is cold. Really pretty out here. Makes me think of Reenie. How're Norbert and Fern? You should come see the time shooting out. Man, ain't that something. With open arms. Ciao.


Woods and Ferns

I am slowly disappearing into the golden mist of what I think should be.


It's alright,
I see you in everything,
You are every empty mile,
And I have loved you over all of them.


Under cover of night
Panthers and foxes we
Marry and divorce,
Trail off into wisps
Ever to be gathered around the lantern of the nightwatchman
Prepared for Sunday service.

I Cannot Thank You Enough

The ache in my bones,
The future in my eyes,
The pressing forward,
The laughter that makes us shake and shake and shake in the grass.



Hands close once more upon the rope, upon the handle
Knotted forearm muscles spell age,
Like tree rings.

How the eye changes with sight,
How the spirit rallies the body,
How the mantras tick over in our hearts.


Hideaway, Revelation

Under the laurels,
I planted my soul,
And I went into the world.

Someday I will climb back there,
Dispatched and over,
Or I will have one of my children fetch it.

And I will again speak to the sky for comfort,
And ask the plates about divorce,
I will be ready for their answers.

Slowly my track will become lighter,
And my bones hollower,
Until with the full laughter of my life,
Every Spring comes to bloom at once.


Whatever they say of me,
Even if it is of loss,
Will have been centuries in the making,
As old as the cracks in my hands,
Are my feelings for you.


For Your Travels and Travails

In silent Love,
Go in good peace,
For we embrace as equals,
And once met those like us,
Are never truly alone.

And again and again, we drink the inseparable fire from living.