My heart is a darkroom
you pass through it
black and white images
I cut you into size
and paste a collage.

My dreams are of flying over rivers, Missouri rivers deep green flecked with tangled weeds, I stare into the water and see nothing. You are the other side of me you leave me calm and healed.

I become a seed
blown by an unseen wind.

I turn to you and listen to the riddle, only the waves make no noise as they slap the flat shingle, passers by stare at us;

we whittle the air
into spirals of incense.

Burning wind on my skin, take a brush to brush you with, you a fawn covered in dark downed hair.

The voice is the carrier of the soul
all those stars branded across Milky way.

How many heavens can we see tonight?