Every direction, every verse explaining

Every direction, every verse explaining
pluralities of love. The lean muscle,
the unexplored library, the expression
of love in the thunderstorm. I'm hearing

a possibility, a rhetoric that's yearning
for a partner. The intervallic relations,
the modes in which I speak, the vain sighs
and ineffable madness. Every direction

and there's no center, pointless meditation
and love's insidious trials. O she is
something that I can't possess, I think

of new ways to express her. It seems
that the rain may never get here. She is
the mixture of fear and awe I'm feeling.

Undulating clouds hide a movement of love

Undulating clouds hide a movement of love
without conjunctions. The weather is moving
in a spectacle of sky, her legs are moving
through the tall grass. How she expresses love

is a mystery to me, the lights are moving
in strange patterns. I'm impressed by love
the way the mud is pressed by shoes, I love
her being and her spirit, the way she moves

in the light and the darkness. She proves
that god is real, she removes leather gloves
and touches my skin. The warmth of the stove

heats up the house and her small hands shove
me into the walls. The stars that improve
spirits wander the deep darkness above.

The new trees, the new mud and the new

The new trees, the new mud and the new
clouds moving in the sky that barely conceal
the Sun. These seeds that contain the ideals
of life, abstractions fed by the cold dew

and the doctrine of the rain. This view
from the water oak is illustrative, the real
extends indefinitely. I have been sealed
within this depression for years, I'm so

tired of words and language. Her nectar
and the color of the flower, the cold, dry
air in the winter months. Which blue star

reminds me of her eye? This wide territory
without a map, and the leaves look similar
to the tall trees reaching into the sky.

Love is the only thing moving. Stars wander

Love is the only thing moving. Stars wander
the heavens in strange patterns, love is all
that is seen and known. This wild ubiquity
of nonsense, this game of making sense of what

revolves about us. Love is the only thing
that's ever made, the movement of the oceans
and rivers reveals its secret. I imagine
a field without depth, a pasture without light

and a sky without clouds. These stars wander,
earth is the only thing moving. The illusions
of orbits, of language and sense, of ethics

and politics with meaning. She is the only
thing there is to apprehend in the whirling
movement that has developed around me.

Sitting in the morning so that the birds

Sitting in the morning so that the birds
don't know you're there. Whispers in the trees
and clouds that slowly obscure the Sun
telling ripe secrets. I can see her chest

fill with a spirit, her mouth articulate words
and legs inspire movement. Sitting in the
air waiting for weather, I'm the argument
for silence, the failure of a mysticism

from another hemisphere. I cannot think
nor speak without gross error. She's alive
with love as the Sun rises, I can hear

her body dying in the darkness. I'm sitting
under movements of moisture that remind me
of the first songs that I learned as a child.

I organized these words. I even had

I organized these words. I even had
these thoughts all by myself. I expressed
whatever it was I felt in a series of
geometries and measures. It was like

a painting or a sculpture. I once thought
that there was something different. I had
an idea that no one else had. I wrote
this sequence of alphabetic characters

and shared it through a medium. I even
followed the prevailing style. Yet, now
I deplore originality. There isn't

anything new under the Sun, there isn't
a story not being told. I disorganized
the meaning moving in these words.

I'm a silly elephant that's playing

I'm a silly elephant that's playing
in the rain. I'm stomping in puddles
and naming all the trees after cereal
brands. I'm a silly cloud just floating

in the middle of the day without going
anywhere. I'm not making any sense
and I don't care. I'm making new giggles
with fun and love. I'm a silly being

surrounded by silly stars within a silly
universe. It's said that art's a game
between all men of all eras. I'm an

artist when I'm not paying attention.
I'm a phrase that should be forgotten
in favor of a remarkably silly laugh.