03:20:10

this (    )
is, for you
they always are, will be
as men of words and means;
& abilities to arrange just so, in the light
and suddenly seeing
so much clearer than I
ever could

but, i like countless before
endeavor to translate the
untranslatable
this love: for you
and they for theirs
every word, letter, intention&glance
is a love poem
this poetry can save the world

it flows and swirls, in (sometimes) great
crashing waves &storming
incessant and falling against so many rocks
breaking apart and coming together, whole
again
still and serene, and
tranquility never known, until
known

it lives and breathes
endures&thrives
droughts and floods
it connects (  us  )
&guiding, flowing through timespace
some, times hip to hip, hand in hand
others distant; but always in sight
of you(me)
and connected in this great
ocean, infinite

just as the poem
I'm always writing
like this one
for you.

coming home to you

I've slept
in fits and shaking falls
fighting the pull to give
in, or up, or over
to whatever lies on the
the other
side--

[of the bed

is yours
and always kept, only
for you]

--under so many
even little
as to puzzle out
how does Santa come to us
if there's no chimney?

36 years &
somewhere near 30
`homes`
were never any more than
temporary relief from
out there, amongst those
illusions of choice

is that all this is
deterministic contingencies
ifs&thens ad infinitum
a clear enough day, with conditions
favorable
able to see forward and behind
the beginning and end
already played out
predestined

so, then
how does this-

if i can
can i
grow
and persevere and be
patient

and avoid the inevitable if--then of the
relentless neversettled churning
it's too much
it exhausts
it wears down

the space beyond these
walls
does enough toward
that end

all I ever wanted
was
coming home to you