the page has opened, a tear in monotony.


stolen passion with fluttering breath sees
eyelids firmed shut, but urgent wanting
drowns vision ahead of physical forms.

i can’t stop touching you:
collarbone, shoulder blade, ribcage,
hipbone, femur, ankle.

you speak of torn dreams of intimacy
in mysterious vowels, whispered,
i don’t understand ich liebe.

drift, drift my sweet
we are both safe
in our own languages


i look into your eyes and see
myself exploding through reduction
reducing the everything

the vessel extricates itself from its own implication
opens up, posing as nothing
it is everything, every thought is a removal.


the page has closed, a suspension of routine,
but i’ll see you again.


3 Responses to “j”

  1. hope and despair, like yin and yang, chasing each other.

  2. Profound…

    I do hope you write that good not only when you’re sad, but also when you’re happy…

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