I have heard too much the mouth of silence
since airplane, the easiest word for you is love

if memories aren’t given back, why make them
as nothing has value outside of creating love

the name of street we walk now is memory
and the buildings are too close
wind spread as oil in the grass

I walked alone into a truck stop, setting the moment aside
fingering the dream catchers

shading my eyes from the outside
I picked up one and held it
thinking it a flower you gave me
or things sparrows are made from

forfeiting pigeons and leafs, as forgotten of ’s
forfeiting gray, the only word for you is gone
in an airplane, you flew away

I walk as a moth covered in man cloth
alone to sing a force of gray gristle concrete

it smells of the street here
awaiting spiral train collapse
hands like a caterpillar or your last hair

I don’t want us to die anymore
our love cried out like samurai in slow fall

our emotions pulled apart like spaghetti
then figured out like crosswords at the plaid pantry
we are free and move like glass in windows
then we fall like samurais to grave
at night you cried in my arms as a refugee

it was about rain
we pass each other as crows alone
in open mind, we are always lovers

because if memories don’t return
what is their purpose

being shaped in sparrow form
in leather string of the truck stop dream catcher

still I will live as if I had a lover
in clouds where your shape emerges
with birds and the wild
conglomeration of our past, now a fading airplane trail
we will chase each other like deer
pull each other like string with nettle hands