this sentence is also incomplete.

eight-hundred twenty-one

if i am going to
cover miles and miles
with no trees
and only the wind and
the sun on my face then

still below the horizon

dawn

i could hear the uncertainty in the voice of wind
branches and leaves carried in a new direction
reaching out to pull me in
and i am made one with the wind
and i am clean in the water
dried by the heat fire of the sun
no longer weighed down
i travel over oceans to uncharted lands
and find that my heart is full of blood
that i am not alone
to watch the moon and fog disappear

circadian rhythm

entering the first circle

the last protective layer
of skin hidden from
the wind and the rain
the burning sun
raising voices over
the sounds noises
of tearing into the
soil the creation of
life endless forgiving
it grows beneath my skin
and up through my eyes
rooted in tissue and
hope the only words
i know to say carried
by blood and not
waves crashing onto
every empty shore

great harbour

chebucto

the sounds of quiet
thought reach
out to a sun that
sinks down into
a sea cool clear
voiceless my mind
heads north carried to
the forest the trees
the silence unbroken
words traveling on wind
rustling leaves
spreading life and
deep breaths new
beginnings rising
and melting away the
ice and snow breaking
free from the soil
up to my hands warmed
by my own blood seen
as i lift them
to the sun

american folk tale

john henry versus the steam hammer

a string stretched between
a sky and an
ocean that expand infinitely
over our heads underneath
our feet blood flowing
in between life heat
and movement constant the
rhythmic song of passing
time breathing and staying
awake without reason listening
to a voice empty
words that fill every
empty space inside closer
to the sun and
sleep and i will
look out over this
sea into time and
i will find a
light that once burned
my eyes wind and
rain my skin opened
washing away the sounds
of words traveling across
skies and oceans above
below between until my
hands fail and i
give in to sleep

it may be broken down

patterns

zero zero one two seven seven
the past is the past
and the stars believe
my bones are white
and i am open whispers
over skies closing distance
under oceans staring up into
the white light of suns and
sleeplessness holding every
breath until its pure and
blue opportunity fulfilled
and realized traveling to
futures unimagined hidden
between my skin and the
soil where my name is buried

the circle makes much of modern civilization possible

a circle a circle

i was born built
to see things in
natural light and
air over water
or growing from
dirt soil earth
take them from
their homes and
lay them to rest
where they belong
take me from my
home and lay me
to rest where i
belong in this sky
in this water in
this dirt soil earth
under natural light

it's only words

a stack of wood

white clouds fall
white rain
over and upward
to heaven and
space infinite and
endless expanse
expanding forever till
i hold my breath
till i let it go
and lungs fill empty
with voices and the
smell of grass and flowers
my hair grows longer
and i hide my face
a little more each
day until i am new
and i am old
each day by this river
and these trees
is another breath taken
in the life of a world
far from forgotten
and far from its
final days
i wash my hands and face
and say nothing until
there is nothing left to say

is a task far more complex than was imagined

hold true to the linear concept

early morning stay
stay up all night
long sheep and stars
and the bottom has
fallen out of the
sky and rain drips
drips drips all
over the world and
people with without
umbrellas rush home
home home their
beds warmly waiting
to lie awake asleep
alive and the page
turns in book after
book and the story
is told and over now
when eyes close and
tell it over again in
our minds and each
ends differently and we
all have different
colored eyes that make
staying awake look
white and sleeping
red and blue and black
and if i can stay
awake asleep longer
no longer than a day
two days five days
when will this story
end or begin on the line
that divides us all
in space spaces real
reality my own two feet
have carried me this
far and how will they
carry me further now
that the streets are
wet and my skin is
covered in water and
ash and sunlight from
an ancient volcano
that i read about on
my first trip to sleep
in days days days awake

changing the surface of the earth

again we were asleep

six months seventeen
days underwater
only rising to
the surface
to feel the warmth
of the sun
on our faces before
returning to the breathless
expanse of ocean
beneath us where there
exist no limits and no
boundaries to keep us
from losing ourselves
or one another

if only this lack of oxygen were real and possible

green and blue and white

pangaea

word after word
written until blank
spaces stretch into
oceans of sleeplessness
and open skies
the kind that make
stars brighter calmer
a world moon island
covered in white and
silence until continents
reconnect and oceans
surround us all waves
wash away every word
making us whole pure
and the earth will no
longer be scattered and
distance will be the
past tense of desire
hope lift our
voices with open hands

sometimes people aren't the same people in our sleep

dreams of the legless

every time the wind
carries me
i hold on
i break my neck
circular motion

everything is everything else

its like that time i...

it makes it all alright
taking breath after breath
after breath
a heart full of blood
a head full of suns and other worlds
islands and oceans
i want you on my side
to open my eyes
and offer them to the sun
distance is silence is distance

circles last longer...

zero zero one two seven seven

youre still in my skin
and every time
a wave washes ashore
the wind carries
salty air and sunlight
to my lungs
and my face
its only distance
its only time
but oceans and trees
are greater than this
they connect our breaths
every movement
carefully calculated
and if one star
doesnt shine anymore
then another will take its place

it just won't go away

...an island somewhere in the Indian Ocean

the words are
written on skin
they are escape
meaningless
and full of
blood
our bones accept
the waves and water
the sun warms
mind and heart
the sky is bigger
blue and empty
here we sing
with voices of wind
carried out to
nothing
and our voices stay with us forever
we have created
life and eternity
we have rid ourselves
of breath
awake always never to sleep again
our blood is light and air
our skin is the sun
our bones are the ocean
a tree grows in the middle of us all