THE SISYPHUS COOLING OF ATOMIC CLOCKS AND ALL DAY WITH YOU

when windmills merge with wind and stutter less
daffodils trace their karma to the origin 
of our constant love. that is all all mine.
apparently orphaned with a parachute 
well-crafted by nightfall…  
as my loving you-
descends into 
matches -

for a bonfire…

made of bad joy 
tripping over pop rocks
clipping valentines into catacombs
that seethe with a tenderness
our lost way
maps to a love on a strange barge
across the stung drang of our dismembered stars
hobbled in the kiln of the void, with on-fire hearts
chumming the waters of a disrupted perfection
squandered on a few of us
born in a manger
like a pit in a  
peach.

unannounced and incomplete.

II

Until We Us.

III

Until We Do.