where it starts. inside or out.

take all my broken pieces
and start over again.
rearrange the reflection
distorted in the patterns
etched in the glass.

out of focus.
except for the ego.

i wonder,
if we were born
unhearing and silent
would we associate thought
as coming from the head?
and if so,
is it (the brain)
the source
of who we refer to
as 'I',
or is it the heart?

i should step outside myself.
out of this wintersleep.
into something verging
on orchestral.
symphonic.

sing to me.
i am beginning to breathe you.

teach me like some holy war
the way time unravels
and falls at my feet.
that although the picture
remains unchanged
we can't be shown
what we're not ready to see.
that scars hide on the inside
and the only walls
are in our minds.

no longer straddling realities.
choose one.
as though life
is averse to overcrowding.
dilution defeats the purpose.

so bring it on.
press hard.
harder.
let the ground
shift beneath my feet.

as the evening grows in size

like a thief stealing kisses if only they were stolen rather than given. exposed like the light keepers that the senses perceive at once concealing and revealing the stories never told including those nestled in the soft part behind your collar bone. miniature landscapes shaping all of your selves into whoever you are today.

*

the evening grows in size and you return again. hands full and with snowflakes caught on eyelashes. wondering what the night sees when shadows are thrown on this city that sparkles and the collusion of realities blurs the way symbolic echoes reverberate in the moments just before waking and you find yourself re-aquainted with the answers before you know the questions.

cryptographic meanderings and morning litanies

circles around me.
in me. tree rings.

choirs of bells shatter not
these windows laced with frost.

the scrape of metal on stone.
not exactly the red sea.

of doors closing
only to open again.

the magnetism of maps.
human atlas of sacred geographies.

the art of tasseomancy.
ritual. superstition.
of ceremony rather than habit.

the longing to stretch.

and clocks.
always clocks.