fragments

I.

If bending, gathering
a pausing outwardly
shy flower

a season pouncing
so listen, awaken expectantly
soil
is speaking

II.

life had not wings
but hands
as violent as ours
and clumsier,
like a child,
swinging.

III.

i love the night
i love the quietness of you asleep next to me
i love the 3am parabolic silence
that leaves you with vertigo
for a day afterwards
i love the night
i love

this night, this you