sometimes everything is.

I am within reach of the ocean.

my fingertips nearly graze the shift of the sea.

almost can I taste the salt in my skin.

but, something tells me I will not see Her in these next few days.

underneath me, the ground is swelling once again.

my knees are loose and diaphanous.

my heart is a crowded room of noise and smoke.

somewhere in here there is a hand I can hold. there has to be.

it's here I am abandoned.

lost in a coil of questions.

in the room of animals that are breathing and resting and readying and being who they are,

everything falls into beautiful order.

the picture is color. the grass remains green.

even in the lush of rain.

a moment's glance out, and I am out.

here, there are sticking things; sharp and seductive.

here, I am blame and shame and

a tangle of thread.

it's here the world goes black.

through the pinhole I see the smile of a dog, feel the ache of a laugh and hear music.

I know tears are warm and gorgeous,

stones move and simple things may nourish me.

I want to run into the arms of love.

and,

sometimes

nothing

feels like love.

and sometimes,

everything is.