in search of the break

knees wet,
we stalk: hunters of the morning dew.

the heat of day
greeting my brow
prying sleep from my eyes...

while she steps surely,
i second guess.

we don't chase lowering night;
when the owl crosses us,
holding it in her talons,
dragging it out for day's certain arrival...

we watch.

"ode to the inside of her belly"

little curdles here and there,
little curdles everywhere.
all those curdles seem to me
something that only little curdles could be:
warm slimy lumps of questionable smell;
inside her belly they'll continue to dwell
until the time comes for her to sleep,
and that is when out of her belly they'll creep.
out of her belly and up towards her throat,
those odiferous curdles will undoubtedly float.
then up she will rise from her tumultuous slumber-
sprinting off to the toilet,
her bowels full of thunder.

heart beats down like rain

flooding the pavement,
washing down in waves
the slow buildup of uncertainty
layering our webs...

heart beats down like rain-
coming in strong, cool sheets,
weighing down our nightly floating feet
and cleaning their cracks
adeptly, gently...

heart beats down like rain-
tapping at the eaves of our minds,
slipping through the folds
and winding to our cores
in a soft squeeze...

we were sure we knew the answers-
it was only a question of when
would our hearts beat down like rain?

she watches me at night

her found form flying freely from falsehood to falsehood
she stops, staring silently, subtly singing her sweet scathing sorrows
what would one so wild want with this wandering widow of wonder?
i can't creep quietly- she keeps watching me at night.