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Every day is shaken like rigor mortis

only of the eye

Shakes maniacally like the dryer

in the narrow hallway

Numb effects on me

like walking through the neighbors' backyard,

scampering,

butterflies scattering in every direction

but I'm Still

even when I'm Moving

Thick air of summer

enough to sizzle

blood-vessels

Ventilation of yellow evening sky

The faint echo of nothing

wanting to fade,

to give way to darkness

There is no void of which to speak

I marvel at the sky, Chinablue,

golden minimums forcing a

shiver, a silver hue

I've felt this beautiful stirring

before

when my eyes rained

with a full grasp of heartache

A lonely valley

is instrumental

becomes like a theatrical audience

Vast fractal memories of Ghazal

the kinship of Time sinking slowly

We sat together

as if in the next century

My heart, like a painted snowflake

in the middle of summer

I'm eager, aimless

as midnight will soon come,

kissing all of our heads softly

The clock on this white-faced wall

has a distinct heartbeat

like everything else

Outbreak of mood

To keep your eye on it

before it vanishes

The bedsheets are wrinkled here,

laminated by an intrinsic moment

All escapes me now

in this new late morning blush

as I long to split sleep into

fragments of black silk

The moon tugs

yet is growing smaller

If the days get shorter

let the night hang from us

We'll put the moon in a flower-vase

with the hope that it sprouts into a new sun