Startling

the gold of grace
in the tongues of women
that came before me
static when
there is no static at all


keys to
my own ghosts
polishing words
writing your touch


A prophecy
the price you pay on the dusty road
a trail of both bodies


saints are
marching over the wind that
startles the silver sheets


folding into
the candy of the blessed

We're still young

and so I go  move gently towards a place  where I find  a self that defies


the limitations  i have drawn before twilight without fireflies  because fireflies need  a yard to dance in

about the streets  that will open  where night meets day

the treasury of  a moment  in all its glory

peppered with  good intentions we’re still young 

rattling around  your brain  are unfinished arguments for things  that toy with your internal tide

post information romance  has it’s place  in the realm of transcendence screen and muse  at the same time

salt and snow  building a rythmn  that she maintained  with the blessings of rain