mine

Be my immune system

Around the shoulder of the sun

A comfortless pause in a flattened sail

She is the moon

Scrounging and hungry for words

The stranger in my foxhole

Drunkard angels

Love and the morning after

There is no God.

The weight of gravity

Love is a relentless hoard

Shot directly into her veins, it was like mainlining poetry.

The language of algorithmic ghosts

Hammers of pure, green granite

Conversations never had

A nomadic cult of echoes

Children are angels with amnesia

The silent syllables of fingertips

We are all just fisherman

Silence becomes a stalking beast

The lucidity of her smile

Then something in her stirred

Time

At the end of a long journey

That which exists between the words

The awkwardness of swans

Nostalgia

She’s defined by

She’s driven by equal torrents

She is haunted

She was lost to me

When their hands met

Some nights

Scars

Breakfast

A requirement of living

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