and where do you go when words fail or tire you?

and

when words fail 
or tire where 
am i?  


resting with swifts
nesting in mud-huts 
pocked on the cliff-wall?
no.  there, the moment turns
ever-present and the clocks tick silence
now is either death or heaven, but such it only seems
to those as blind and dumb as would rather not be
in that place, where speech
stops where scream
 - ing is silent.

Why did you tell me I was beautiful?

Because that is how it appeared.

why did you say my hair smelled like red moss under cedar trees?

Because I supposed you'd like the comparison.

why did you say you wanted us to look at each other the same way as then, as long as we lived?

I thought that that is how I would have liked it to have been.

Modalities?

Yes.  Modalities.

why did you say you wanted me to have all the books
you had ever read?

I said I wanted 
it so I could see 
myself not you
so I could be as sure of your reality
as I was of my own




for in the night, 
when you sleep and I would pace 
fitful not rest on pillows 
seeking evasive sleep
I would look to your resting face, searching
for something beyond 
the eternal separation 
one from the other
but your face became,
becomes, so familiar
it could no longer be 
recognized, would else become 
fear-filled & frightful.


We assume 
we are all 
mirrored
in the smoke.  Rings
bind
 and shackle 
in unexpected ways.