Feb 3, 2010


i miss your fire
and i miss your fire
and i miss you, your eyes--
the underbelly of pine
indirect upon mountain blue--
windless and supple your gaze--

here are my hands, keys after keyholes--
here are my eyes, thermals of snakes
and birds of prey--
here is my glut of gulf, my stars--
my time, my space--

what better headstone
if not entirety itself--
that large contrail that plumes
in pressure and plummets--
what better epitaph
than a sincere lack of fate--

i miss your fire--
the coalesced embers of you--
my heart is tinder--
my mind is kindling--
my soul erased.