Andromeda

Sunflower big bang star explosion

Kiss me quickly with your gentle
Kill me quickly with your sunshine

Show me dancing with your high line

Hold my heart
Make it explode into a million tiny pieces in the night sky

Hydra

Cassiopeia

Andromeda

Alhena

Love me so hard I repeat my existence
Over and over and over

Love me so hard you’ll never have to stop

Namaste

You are not alone in your anxiety

You are not alone in your fear and

You are not alone in your pain or wondering.

You see, I, and many are with you

We feel it all. We feel it, we do.

But life is still beautiful

Beautiful as flowers, beautiful as you

If you only look for it.

We do, too. Find it in and around you.

It’s there.

Nevermore

Your hyper-star gaze
Visceral in my throat punch

Smile cocked like a gun
Checking my tires
Popped them like a mail gun

Tell me wicked little secrets
Titillate me with your devilish desires
Wake me stupid with your dirty charms
Til I sleep in nevermore

Choke me lurid with your tailspin

Wake me stupid from a daydream

Take me weakly with your left hand

Lullaby me nevermore

Lentils

“No reason to lie when you can shock them with the truth. It’s more interesting anyway,” you said.

Lentils, cooked or not, are still lentils. They just smell different. I squeezed them tightly in palm of my hand.

“Anthony, why’d you give me cooked lentils? That’s so weird. Why are you so weird?” He always loved lentils. The red kind, not the green.

“Anthony. Darling. Let’s walk up this hill and catch the last sunset together. It’ll be worth it. I’ll buy you a home by the sea, just like you wanted.”

You asked me why.

“Because that’s what people do when they love each other, Anthony. That’s what we do.”

For the unforgettable – Ecuadorian flute bearing – MJ.

-mh-

Any Excuse

I’ll take any excuse to love you

So explain to me that the sky isn’t blue

That this pain I’m feeling isn’t real

Tell me that people don’t really have two hands Tell me we’ll live forever

even though I know someday we all have to go

I’ll take any excuse to love you

Any excuse to believe that this might somehow work Tell me that when you paused

when I asked if you thought we’d be together always

That you really meant yes

Stardust

What is it like to be with you when the whole world is asleep?

I’d love to know the taste of your lips at midnight

sweeter than sunrise, softer than sunshine against my windowpane at dusk.

what is it like to kiss your face when the rest of the world closes its eyes?

I’d venture to say it feels like the broadest luck

quite impossible, quite unimagineable, but innumerably

inexplicably real.

your breath on my tongue

your eyelashes in my dreams but they flutter gently on my face

so real, too true, but quite still so unimagineably similar

to when stars collide.

 

-mh-

Maps

Home is where the heart is, so they say.

But where is my heart? When the wind blows tumbleweed across the cracks in the sand, they pick up debris as they roll on by. Where is my heart?

“It is not down on any map,” as they say – “true places never are.”

And home isn’t the same anymore; it never was. It can be fleeting

flying

feeling.

We and the river are constant change – ever-evolving, turning a new leaf just as tiny roots stretch their newborn legs into soft, brown soil.

And still we chase, gather, hunt. Nostalgia. Birth. Rebirth. Brown, cracked leaves, brown leaves covered in rain.

(Is home an illusion?)

I reach down, frantically picking up dark brown leaves, shoving them in my pockets – some crack in my hands, some are wet and pliable and I gather them, desperate and hungry – barely noticing the feeling of wet earth between my toes.

“Home.” “Home.”  “Home.”

quickly!

gather

…please.

My pockets are full, bulging with dead leaves.

Is it down on any map?

(True places never are)

I just want to feel safe in the constance of your smile.

Something about the dirt between my toes tells me I’ve got nothing to do but be.

Something about the earth beneath my feet tells me I’m here.

Something about the sand inside my pockets tells me it’s now.

Home is where the heart is. But where is my heart?

I stuff my hands in my pockets and squeeze the soft brown leaves. If I close my eyes and breathe in the deep forest air, I know my heart is in the feeling I get when I hear you say,

“One of the happiest moments in my life was watching the sun rise this morning.”

My heart is in your laughter.

My heart is in “I love you.”

 

It was then that I knew,

Honey, I’m home.