the moon and stars
locked in stutterstep
incandescent illusion
intricate delusion
i sought my center
there i found you

What if our soulmates are poems or star songs, or the way the light
bends the shadow of a tree? Or waves of a cold dark sea across tender places never touched before? The darkness inside wants to be understood, over the sweet screams and bottomless remains.

i lose myself in the
margins of your smile
in the italics of the sun
wilting behind the moon
pummeled by punctuation
hanging myself on the
curvature of dreams

We have a desire, or we have a need, to find one place we fit. Just one. A place to feel seamlessly connected. But we are all unusual worlds caught in strangleholds of stasis. Movement relying on the layering of human influence after influence. Mortal storm clouds, icicles made of soft whispers or animalistic touches.

there is an uneasiness
an incidental congruence
as eagerness emulsifies
i trip over incidentals
shattering tenderly
to fall fully into shadows
in the shape of you

Maybe we find it in each shattering and reformation of cells and soul. The hearts and lips that brush against another’s jagged edges with a depth of intensity we’ve decided to call love.

EC is poetry to me.