Kymatology

You carry your heart out onto the shore,
hoping someone will favor it so much more
than you already do.

A blasting salt spray
sprinkles your knees

what would happen if you met me?

I’m sitting on crusty cobblestone.

I’m dying of zelotypia.

I need to breathe. I need to breathe;

calm down soon.

You struggle to find a rebound saint.
Each day you live becomes harder to withstand,
swallow, or faint.

I watch you follow through.
Sands fight my gravelly shoes.

why am I hesitating to pursue?

I’m heading for the lighthouse
on Colby Mist cliff.
I’m blowing a wish. I hope the sea
drifts—away—

back to you. Now, I’m running out of fishing lines to
throw at your mind. Ready or not, you better be late
when you arrive, because I don’t think I can take this
carbon dioxide—any longer.

But inside a gaze,

you break from a trance.

I’m holding your heart

as you catch my falling stars.

The world at last chants

a forsaken dance

we both forgot.

We forget to glance.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s