Art by Gianni de Conno
We walk the tightwire of decorum
with such determination!
who leads, and who follows?
A certain frailty shatters the air
between us. An organic whole
self-generates from the fragments.
rain falls from other skies
Uncertainty torments certainty.
is it your breath that’s crossing the
bridge of my cheekbones and the space
between my eyes while i swallow the night?
In how many other ways
have we known this moment?
In how many other continua
have we created and entered this
space—and its inverses—before?
your pulse quickens like a
hurricane beneath my tongue, on
my chin, my collarbones, my waist
Do pendulums pine in the dark?
bring me night blossoming jasmine
to drape over the yearning
around my neck
I am distant, far away…
the watcher on the hills.
bring me scalpel and spoon
bring me sun, bring me moon
I attach myself to The Unspoken—
leaving all else behind.
When I own that I am lost,
I find my way.