Let me go into long pause.
I want to dig my consciousness.
How many intimates
you need to share the hyphenated
half-bloods of air born myths?
Surrounded by lacerations
I go dim, and then I invoke
you to come and sit beside me
to look straight into my eyes.
Days are ripening and months blending.
We listen to the unheard calls.
Can you see through me
to find the depth of my blues?
Wind hides the replies. You
go unhinged, suspended in
sun, waiting for the sunflowers to
bloom after the dark.
I often forget myself and become you.