I have been gone so long

redirecting mundane priorities

inside an endless vacuum

to a quiet place upstairs

where injured lovers solemnly embrace

for the first or last time

Conversations spring forth

with the absence of sweaty palms

or the tap dancing of virgin feet

that lovely state in which I contemplate

the possibility of being rescued myself

no longer the wintering tragedies of



and limping


every movement of my heart resonates

and then collapses into another

pulsating simultaneously

just because it can.

But what does this all really mean,

occupying nonsensical fantasy?

It brings laughter and inspiration

for the loneliest form of communication

Because with nothing left to be

nothing else is important to me.