fresh as grace

i go wandering into that wet dusk gathering air
like a stamen gathers pollen, high with the fever
of being alive, stringing the stars that make
themselves apparent around my neck, a string
of colored beads. the moon wanes but my love
never does, and everything is a circle to me in
front of my eyes and inside me, my molten heart
is beating fierce, you can see the pulsing beneath
my skin. the trees that have gone to sleep as
shadows are draping their limbs over my head
and i let myself go into the undertow of night,
pulling my yolk around me so that i might be
birthed again in the morning, fresh as grace.

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[fragment]

we pass darkness between our mouths–words of shade
that instead illuminate the deepest truths found only in
this undulation of sound, that resonating heart beat.

the verdant heart

pluck ingots of tears from my eyes
and polish them in the lake until they shine
in this green land i am shorn of my grief
and my heart is a moon-blooming flower.

here the notes of song from voice and chord
echo beyond the line of sea and sky
here they listen not only with their ears,
here the curve of a shoulder is grace.

inside a ring of trees i am held until my pulse
steadies and the moss grows over my feet.
atop a mountain of creased limestone,
i swear the horizon is closer than ever before.

i swim deeply immersed in an ancient tone
and you are with me and i am never alone.