The Origin of You

From nebulae,
stars are born
each day,
vast pools of matter
coalescing in eddies,
swirling themselves into existence
from the fragments
left behind by their long-dead

if I run fast enough
around what you left behind,
at some precise picosecond
in a single exceedingly
unlikely circumstance,
there would be you.

Yet I haven’t the faith
or energy
to run circles anymore.

Perhaps there’s something
akin to perfect
in one of these existing bodies
I pass each day,
heavenly enough,
to warm the empty space
in my bed and my heart.

If only I could get these
celestial clouds
out of my mind…

Where I Live

Gentle scent of sweat
paints the ripple of your shoulder
hammering a fence post

Slender sinew glistens
from the shadow of your hairline
to the small of your back,
the path of my caresses
ten-thousand times

My mind constructs your form—
the body you protested
too soft, too smooth, too thin
still I see the Perfect
of your arms
under my fingertips,
of your chest
pressed against my cheek,
of the gentle offering of your sides
to my soft pinch as
I pull away to leave

You never understand how much
I long for more each day…

Ringtails are not solitary in spring

Your turn to pick—
Slaughter Canyon,
west of the road to Carlsbad.

Brazilian bats and
tarantulas if it’s warm enough.
Too cool for rattlesnakes…damn.

We bushwhack ten easy minutes
from the roadside to the trail,
the final time I don’t regret
offering to take the heavy pack
with our tent.

I feel guilty when I hear another
crunch underfoot, scorpion
These things are everywhere.

I contemplate when I hiked through
life without you.
For an instant I panic that this isn’t real.
Catching the jacket you have
tied around your waist,
I pull you close for a quick peck of

You sneak the spare water bottle from my pack,
a pound-and-a-half lighter for me,
and tear off up the hillside.

Hurry up, Old Man!
echoes from upslope.
With a little wisp of a
chuckle, I smile to myself.
I love you so much…



Impossibly out of sync
a different set of stars never align.

We float on a stochastic sea,
blind and particularly dumb,
glowing blue from the pitch as
we brush past those we are
meant to understand.

As if it’s supposed to matter
how openly hearts are shared,
something akin to thought
bounces around inside our skulls,
we remain disconnected…

and then tread water towards
oblivion? I don’t think so!


He convinces himself that
people molded the same
but divided by circumstance
exist separately for a reason;

a fairer existence would offer
a sign, maybe a random speck
of flint colliding into steel
somewhere in the heavens.

He inhales the stars of a universe
hellbent on keeping secrets,

breathes out fire.


over a glass lake—
wisps of vapor hover and twist,
higher with
the rise.

I imagine them as
of all the events that
created me.

A heavy cloud
descends upon them.
They become One.