[from the archives - saturnine]

collect the failures
scattered across my ribcage
like mute, tainted bells.

'a great inverted forest' [from Salinger]

I am tired, said the person.
I am tired, said the forest.

I don't want to speak, said the person.
I don't want to speak, said the forest.

I will rest, said the person.
I will rest, said the forest.

(But am I whole?) asked the person.
(But am I whole?) asked the forest.

Every breath of mine is ragged love,
said the forest.
Every ragged breath
is love.

different light

The dark yellow city light
is on your face,
close to mine,
as the pattering night rain
from a just-open window
drums us to sleep.

In the morning
the sky is bright and checkered
with cumulus clouds---
cumulus, meaning
'heap' or 'pile,' in Latin.
The warm air lifts up
and cools down
gathering
into water droplets,
into white cloud, against blue.

After days of rain,
clean light streams
through the upper shutters
of the window, in stripes.
You are standing:
the light in bars
against your bare
torso, your ribcage

I only mean
to remember
the light
on your closing face
and your standing
open body