What the fisherman reveals to me.

the fisher man and his river walks.
he catches my ear and whispers to me
and tells me the mirror we are for each other.
i can see his eyes bright and liquid...i can see his hair and
the memory of long dreadlocks...

the poetry of our friendship: learning creativity and science
passing loves off and gathering beer cans
and roach clips..
wandering off into desert spaces marked with artwork.
and telling stories about rocks. and shared books..and singing punk rock.

he said he was in love with me over and over again.
it reminds me how friendships/loves start.
and how ever new person brings the passion forwards
i could never love anyone without such intenstiy...

its often a way that scares people my deep strong craving..
my rapturous stares and tight grips..
there only in metaphors there only in the thought of
never untying deeply woven knots.

peace, you ask. peace is in knowing my impulse
to crave you and feel you is beautiful.
peace, is to know im in the desired capacity to give and give.
peace, is to know I choose you. confident in my decision.

today the rain clouds are hovering but im not sure if they are going to pour themselves out. its in hiding from me.
and staying the distance.
that you tell me to get out.

I am drawing thoughts of your body and the marks that you make on it.
the harsh scars you burn into your mindscape and flesh.
they are reaches just to my left.
and without grasping. i look over.
and you are forgetting your parachute.

the feel of watching you plummet fast
brings racous vibrations into my body. from chin to groin...
my arms often go numb with the thought of you disappearing downward..
if you had just waited one second. i would have affixed the cable right.

i wake up from this dream of you falling.
cradle my telephone. as if it were your body..
ridiculous. my buttons push out into the universe.
the only truth about who you are to me.

and I wish you to believe me.