The convalescence in kindred spirts,
rye beneath promised moons ages old.
Suns revolving in hidden universe;
cosmic truth to distant words
and faces long removed.
Frequencies vibrate succinctly,
but our frequencies do not vibrate the same.
A reason for your absence:
to see your face would blind my eyes,
strip me of sanity.
Rising through the rainbow spine,
cleansing heart and hearth and home,
hushed inquisitions before the angels’ thrones,
I become denied my love for you.
It is taken away.
A soft delusion like a crown of thorns
between lights of a blue marijuana cigarette.
The blue light, a toke of this blue hour,
lights daydreams before me, reminds me
not to live in the past.
Childlike idealisms at the dawn of all seriousness,
the rite of awareness beyond adolescence.
Asleep in the room of our fathers’ and mothers’ hearts,
a memory tacked to the wall, black and white and nostalgic,
tender as the ghost who sleeps beside me
but does not wipe my tears.