Choosing flight
over other deviations.
Marking time in a haphazard flick
of feathers and sighs.

Finding peace in a shaken
full-body release
only after coming with empty arms
and a blurred state of mind
to become unseen but where you are
in the form of a soaring raptor
clenching talons
scanning ribbons of rivers from above.

Carving into my being
what we see in the hills.
Making nothing over and everything new
in a union of all we touch.

the moon slipped lower
heading straight for the hills

it became a red swinging thing
marking our moving places along the valley

the shifting was addictive
as the living ground and sky transformed

we were left alone
with remnants we wove into tales of escape

the moon took our voice
and forced a song of release

my corner is cluttered
with bits and colors
like a spiritual bodega
pressing bohemia hard
into the space between

it gets so crowded
with layers of notes
a boof of hushed tones
no one can see or guess
what’s behind the mess

worse than a meadow
with pressed day-glow parking lines
is a tired disguise ruined
from the inside brewing
maps flutter and fade in the breeze

With the greying of olives,
I realize I don’t know where you are
or if you can laugh at all,
like I do at bodily functions
and the thematic illusion of time.

I imagine a tryst
involving coffee, a train schedule,
and a little light.
Would you let me love your troubles away?