There's no antisolar point

today, yesterday

it's white up and down

But my toes are dancing

catching the comfort

of the fire stove in my heart

at home

Let's speak in such rhythm

that the most aware part

lands on the pulse

of the golden ratio - the wrist

Tell me how rare

something is

so we can hoarseness

each other to seeing

the other way

I need you to come over

and remember with me

the Tuesday

before the Big Bang

Your self-love is what

I'm after. I need you

to know, you have to

I'll love myself, too, till

we're both there and

the strings are torn

in joy 

Morning winter glow 

in the sky

in the fireplace

Then kids awake