record yourself a scrapbook made of words and pictures too.
devise for me a symptom of your passing through.
i am the phrasing i reuse;
i am the phases of the moon.
i would just sway your moods.

rewind the tape to the moment that you hashed it out –
the setting of a daydream you had found
was just a portrait of a queen
inside a song you wished would be
a caption on the picture that you cast to sea
to catch a wave and be free.

my heaven’s all around.
traverse entire grounds
until you reach the orchard’s wall..
i’m on the other side with a message for you all.
that who is like god is merely beautiful.

sing a song, surrender to your fantasies,
playing like pianos through your sleep.
you are a movement i can’t take;
you are a heart i long to break
before i’d finally fade away
and all the autumn leaves had changed
into a carpet for your garden – anyway,
summer breezes leave you winded in their wake.

but everything has its place.