I'm pretty sure mortality is just a joke someone came up with and we've been dying of laughter ever since

14 familiar summits

Your smile is a song I've always known,

 though I've heard it for the first time, today,

Somewhere in my stretching arteries,

       a shout,

                    a pounce,

                                   an "I've got you!"

Now, where did that come from?

      Some melody wrapped around my throat,

Choking on joy, the glow and blush

of cheeks raised. The notes easing aches,

And causing entirely different intestinal pains,

My toes tap the new heart rhythm...

I've seen glimmers in eyes,

     heard the stars and their high notes,  but there's 

Something like comfort in your gaze,

Like a song sung by our mother, like 

A song sung before the lapse in innocence,

And my instinctual reaction to hymns like that, is to shiver, to shudder, an attempt to contain,

Soon my lids  will close to your light, 

          but my soul will

             dance 

               uplifted 

        by your harmony. 

    

13 This is How We'll Pass

How will you find me

            my face buried in a sketch pad or

            furiously writing,

or me you, 

            your face buried in a book,

            somehow both smiling and crying?

My hair is short now, my piercings in some

            drawer somewhere...

and you'll be on a bad hair day,

           too busy running from project to project.

I'll be too lazy that day to try something new, 

and you'll be too caught up with friends to notice me.

I'll have stains on my pants that day, 

           and you'll be in your most intimidating outfit.

You'll be in a hilarious mood,

           I'll be consoling a friend.

I'll be wandering in Bolivia  and you'll be

         wandering in Bangladesh.            

You'll be thinking that I'm just some crazy guy staring, 

        and you'll hurry to get away

and I'll be staring just like some crazy guy, muttering 

        and wondering what to say

...that will make you want my name?

       
       

(12) Togetherness

She brought in the                

cold with her,     and             

we all shivered, 

She in relief,                             

and we in our bitterness

11

Comforting,          thats what she said,

when I had said I was annoying.

                  to be comforting,

                  what a blessed position,       

                  to be somebody's pillow,

                  their chocolate cake,

                  their chicken soup,

                          their background music

                      in line with their rhythm.

                      no ache in their stomach,

                           no longing in their diaphram,

                      no anxiety dreams in their sheets.

If I could be,               by just being

I'd enjoy that

                               probably more than they

                                            would.

10

There are thousands of us
Roaming
      The majority young
And dreadfully lonely
Looking for fulfillment
In the hollows, the cracks where the bricks
         have been warn by winds and passerbys fingertips.
The smoke of too many cigarettes,
The smells of too many sun embraced steps in the afternoon's sweat,
In the late to bed searches, for agreement in gestures, in eyes that say yes
while drinks put to rest, all thoughts that had festered, all thoughts of regret,
In moments of  pleasure what need of respect?
             What          need, to be known.

(9)

I wonder how long you´ve 
greeted the day with
fire breaths and stretch
pants.
     Looking out from the 
     ruined buildings like
          the Inca, the
            Gods over the 
                  city.
      Calling on whatever
      forces necessary
         to fill your
       blood with movement.
       In a place that 
       turns muscles to
         Stones.    and
         Stones to tourist
         attractions.

                Everything
          about you stands
            out in this  
                          landscape
             a flower amongst
the 
    rubble,
            movement
                    amongst
             the packed
                    Earth.
             And though each
               gesture seems
             in synchronicity,
       choreographed
                   dancing,
 y0ur socks 4re
        D1fferent col0rs

   Yogic Madness