2017 for 2017, 194-200:

Cusp between days
Threshold of hours
meeting point of
yesterday and tomorrow

 

where today
can possibly
disappear

Proximity

Across where you are, you’ll see,
We’ll meet where the sun meets the sea.

Like thread through a spread
of cloth coloured deep blue,
our fingers will weave through
the fabric of the Pacific, riding
the rise and fall and roll and
crash of waves that slip
into the palm of the shore.
Where changing sands mark the distance
between here and where you are–
nearness begins
where the ocean ends and expands.

Never Out Of Time

It will come to a point when the seasons no longer define our timelines

We will gather in vases the bloom of fallen leaves in autumn

We will wade through the waves with snowflakes whispering in our ears

We will come to know moments instead of counting hours

And splitsecond kisses will sustain us year after year after year

365 for 2012: (10) An Exercise in Writing Letters No. 1

The thoughts ran faster than the words could

arrange themselves neatly in line. Properly

waiting to nod their heads

at the end of the sentences.

So I rearrange them again.

And in carefully placed punctuations

and calculated silences between syllables,

I fold myself silently. Breaking

into shards and splinters

so that in the gaps where the thoughts are unsaid

pieces of me could slip in quietly,

almost unseen.