Your light, an aura tenderly bright
brings down that effervescent
atmosphere – a pollen of soul –
completely blanketing my being
like a million matches lit
the smell of sulfur burning
your nose – the sharpness
the ground of things – in essence
the scents of memory lingering
about as fireflies blipping
in and out
in and out
the Morse code of attention
the lights on the runway
mapping out the landing of the plane
this plane of space
a throne for thought
measured by a width of language
What empty space!?
Your empty empty face!
a reflection of a reflection
doubled inwards towards doubt
What weight;
where will you put it?
The stellar jay took to nesting
in the Cottonwood, come soon
her eggs will hatch and then
there will be the screech of the newborn.