inside the globe tree
bench back against trunk
leaves curtaining dirt paths in
light breeze around me sweeping straight veins
sacred dirt grounds the places you were touching
aberdeen hands to grass leaves to street touching
gravel pleiades mystery i
know something missing my
heart beats sluggish my
eyes weary have to pee but
peace around me staying
brushes and leaves scattered
floral arrangements and pollinations of the
spirit come away softly
you left me at the garden gate all
must face ourselves alone at
judgement seat, the mirror we
break is sometimes too
much my own enemy ashes to sword flashes
dust where are you
who told you (you were alone)
low whirr of twilight violinists and a
building vent repeating the same droll
climate control i am always
thinking about the concreting cracked hands empty
space on the bench beside
me but i'd hold my breath and clench a fist if there was
somebody (who told me)
alone i'm free to breathe deep
of this coughed damp chocolate dust
trading breath between my lungs and the
trees, intimacy (our hearts speak the same
word) the smell of deep dust and green we
must be going (says stern angel, flashing)
but i would stay i
don't stay in silence
so often i don't hear so clearly
the space the tangent touching
about to breathe
