Scatter as a prayerescaping my lips...as orchidsblooming in clouds.

the ocean mist engulfs me, like a lifetime’s friendship honored.

Your words... I hold them deeplike ancient skinshold wrinkles.

how can i everbreathe normally againafter having been cradledby the kind of sorrowso silent, that it nourishesafter having been sweptby the kind of joyso absolute, that it wounds.

kisses... areand always will be the only language that I will have ever truly known.

to be a poet meansto live with a permanent wound forever susceptibleto either the shade of the skyor someone's eyes.

wordslike mysterious mermaids come and live permanentlyin the soft sweepsand scars of my skin.

kisses happenwhen my morning blueberry muffin sails slowly upon my savoring tongue.

someday i will walk under the soul-blossom tree with my hand eternally woven in yours.