He said that he felt that there was a book hidden between us. Some small thing lodged between a rib or a summer. and He wanted to find it.

She told me there was a place on my face she wanted to inhale.

He left the next morning, searching for a city with light that reminded him of me. He would mail me empty envelopes and boxes, I would take them into my closet, shut the door, and...

Nowhere hidden has ever turned away a goodheart guest.

Later when they would mention, they would say, and everyone would know, but not nearly as well as they meant.

there are these places on your poem, / where I want to write bodies.

I negate this distance with / what it would be / to be shining you.

I don’t know if I have ever truly believed that everyone deserves love. But if I had to take it one moment further into those shadowed valleys of heartfull, I would admit that I do...

and you taste / of the memory of god abandoned.

I want to gossip about forever / against the part of your back that / is mine.

The city they are building asks you to stay; remind yourself what is worth keeping, while the lighthouse of your moan warns the ship of your heart that he is a stone.