Sew your clothes to mine
knead this dough
your hand
my hand
chorus and verse
we can take turns
and turn
back to the cold places of the world

the thin house
its mad bones sticking out

These are the things that i have asked
fey words pressed out under stars
a sodden heart wrung out tinder dry
pleading to be lit in the bright distance

if the reach of heart and hand

I cannot tell of this
the way it feels
to be
across the room to you

your hair
your hair

a shard of chrysolite
inside my hope
burns at the name of you

a jewel
so brightly bourn

so beautiful
asleep

fall into the seam
between a shadow
and a fading son

so free
the always dream
of love in all
into the burning heart
of this life's star

in this
a smallest place
no voice is raised

a whisper waits
to crash a broken life
into the walls

in this
an absent crafted day
a thought is stilled

asleep
and wake

the morning opens
impertinent with questions
from all yesterdays

The things we give to change
are yet unaltered
although they are so changed
when studied by the hearts clear eye
untricked with times capricious lights

this hand, although it is a mans

I often dream
in the everyday speech wheels
grinding their tracks
of the bright day and the flower
planted into your hair

this bringing and taking place
creaks wildly in complaint

sometimes
when hands are held
those bright clear days
so near and close away
remember

I hide
in the tall summer wheat
behind the house
over which
no cloud shadow falls

Under the shy sun
and the wind smashed trees
Your face is warm
sweetest here among the homedark fields

The high clouds process over
fat with the forgotten seas silver

the small pieces i have kept
kept and fixed my name upon
were the most bright starry things
just under that small hand

that hand so sweetly borrowed
against the flow of things

my serotonin dream
runs in my daytime sleep
quietly adjusts the darkness
to a gentle twilight glow
of blue and white

small in my hand
until our chemicals touch
to paint over the night

here I stand
the hero of this care worn day
stretched out across the blankness of the night
empty as the air

light pours through
the journeys in her lucid skin

the morning dog smiles
eager teeth pause the plaything
before the flights joy

the hands held when young
have turned back
casting far star shadows
from a place long left

deep in the trail
of the victorious moon
the bright gold waits
weaving light from dust