time to look

I liked to think that at the very core of our being, every one wants to be good; that every one wants that feeling that is sincere.
I liked to think that we are thoughtful and clever and unafraid of giving the world what we have to offer.
I wanted to talk like a story teller;
I wanted to speak like a saint,
convinced of this much: that everyone is writing their own characters and that
even if it doesn't, I must live as though every word of my story will eventually touch down.
Would that kith be your knowers-of-truth and kin, beholders of beauty.
Would that it were so:
you want to be the one who was known before all that was left of them was their words, worth the remembering,
because you took the care to be the way you wished to be remembered,
and unashamed even when misguided,
celebrated for your genuine self.
Focus your energy
do know tho-
you only know
what you'll see
when you take
the time to look.
Live in the landscape.

Will there still be cicadas?

do not try

do not go back

or gather stones

or take up slack

not to remember

when

dropping pebbles into gutters

is all the wrong was dealt.

To think on it

I hang out your window,

and when the long shadows have reached the shore,

find myself exploring paths traced with only a gaze,

that direction opposite one's feet.

It may go on like this.
Adventures robbed with

No explanations to questions never asked,

anything to halt that sinking.

August finds me a mermaid, 

surviving

on cicadas and sunlight.
on cicadas and sunlight.

From faraway

My memories of you are all yellow.
I'm rolling upright and open,
passing between structures
and under canopies,
and through the swimming sunlight
guided by a gravity of recollection,
every one a new mix of the old same
everything here is new and the other things all resurface in another place,
comfortable but fresh
different and unexplored.
Movements newly golden, easy as breath.
I feel the gaze of your thoughts on me;
I don't want to disappoint.

     
Yours was an undying ember growing into a lake
one could surely swim the depths of.
You would want them, too.
The licking waves that pull at the shore
taste all the hunger of a slow burn.
Time spent in the minds of others is your seated throne.
For all my wanting,
my strength could not match your power.
Stop checking your watch.
Sit. Draw me in again.