moss hearts

And good enough for god?

but what is?, he asked me
so i told him.
i said, these things are minuscule and full of light that is not sharp 
but moldable and very soft.
and hearts too, i suppose, if maybe god had lots of time and patience
it was said he was unceasingly forgiving, 
but i don't think he was ready for this kind of evil or this kind of love.
my heart,
my heart sometimes opens & closes, like the stubborn pleated shades with plastic on the sides, in an elderly widows apartment in southern florida.
you have to pull them apart, you've got to pull them but with delicacy.

and last night?
last night there were horses.
there was a different time and different air.
so many, most of them were very upset, angry even; fierce.
if i said they had short swirling roots on the tops of their heads
you might call them unicorn but i wouldn't like that; nor would they
these were there to hold on to, and for this purpose only.
they were waging wars and plotting revenges and us humans
were scattered about like fools, i was frightened, my knees chattered like teeth.
a white horse found me, and picked me up with its hooves
it moved its muscles to show my body how to curl into it
and we rode.
i wasn't riding the horse and the horse wasn't riding me but
we rode. everyone disapproved, the sun had its arms crossed
and we had to whisper so the other horses would never know.
sometimes we would fly, we would pick up off the ground for long moments but
he was old and it was difficult, i could feel the pain of it around his neck, my heart was a thousand pages falling.
we whispered things.
i said, you are a dove when you fly
he said there is nothing i have carried that is lighter than you
i said, you are good enough for god
and then we found him, cloud-like and infinite. 


i said new
i said new.
what were you thinking?
and me?

whatever love is
whatever love meant to be
whatever it was defined as by the first hands,
its call has been forwarded to an automated voice mail system.

whatever love is
it lives on another planet and it doesn't know about
the brain, the cerebral cortex and all of its executive functions
see the brain regulates the bodys actions and reactions
i only react to you
my memories react to your body and my body reacts to its memories
if love is the answer i have a bookcase of questions
my heart stopped once
we never found it
it swims in water i am too afraid to step in
can you?
whatever love is
it can't
i washed my blankets you bastard
doesn't love know anything?

grace, a verb. (?)

both on your bed
sitting indian style
& the knees? touching like moss on trees.
we were talking about this, thing
this thing that we have gotten ourselves into, i guess.

we looked at each other harder than i think any two humans ever could in life
maybe we didn't blink but if we did, it didnt matter 
It was so far past looking.
as things moved time didn't and our faces were very close together 
i kept thinking how odd it was i could even comprehend reality 
a million birds were going through my head and real life was switching with a firing of miscellaneous synapses:  black and white photographs of  trips we never really took and songs we wrote on other planets.
i think our lips were so close that our breaths were maybe kissing without us
we allowed this
but we both knew.
i think our lips touched just maybe
it was like ballet
like ballet but only the white swan.