Square Root

Tree of me
We are so alike
My hands placed on your bark
Both of us connected, transcended
Chipped and scarred by time and man
You stand tall
You lean ever so slight
You stand tall.
I say to myself,
“We are the same, you and I”
This is my tree.
But he is much more wise and weathered
Most important of all
His roots go deep.
This is a tree, my tree
He is me.
I am tree.


Sleep Deprivation

You make moments feel cosmic
And in your absence, I feel longing.
So where is the script for this sort of thing?
I know what my mind must be thinking
But my heart has taken over
So he doesn’t get a say anymore.
This could be a good thing
Though tendencies show it usually isn’t.
Maybe you’ll outsmart us both.
Diving into the art of our hearts
Where we both can finally collide
Ensuring things will never be the same again.


I can really pick my moments sometimes.

Her hands are carefully tracing,
I eavesdrop just enough that I’m privy
A world of splendor is unveiled to me –
The textures tell a story in third dimension
Like braille to a blind man, I think
“This is what it’s like to see again”
Smells of oils and pastels and poems
Whose words mosaic memories and music
Mysteries within mysteries
Roaring and revealing
Leading to our discoveries
Souls lain bare and honest
Vibrant and vulnerable

Ah, I feel healed.

Something I once thought not possible.

Now six strings forgive me my absence and sorrow,
As our mahogany bodies can make music once again.