(soft homes)

My brain is the ghost that kissed our sleeper (sound) and brought him peace.

(welcome son)

My brain is the old bone collapse that brought great mountains from their halls and into our reach.


(leaden pose)

My brain is the light we followed, thundering, from faded eyes into the sea.


(call in, call all)

My brain is the beauty bound in metaphors these days are last to measure fit.


(sing a solstice)

My brain is the hall we decked in wonder.


(temper of swans)

My brain is the glass underneath said monuments.


(holy measures)

My brain is the sun bent mourning of cat's eyes watching patience through the fade.


(place salvation contest)

My brain is the boy spun round the bubble (bursting bluestreaks on short futures) and back into our homesick hearts to mend.


(as by night)

My brain is the pulse of soft consequence.

(we strum along)

My brain is that radio psalm welcoming the fold back to the balm of citrus sunshine slowly singing 'my heart is long and back again.'


(no tomes from the breadth)

My brain is the nightmare come to quell the unkept sufferings that make this home a hope (if fractured, curious and skewed) from which our best intentions grow and make a smile for ragged faces.


(loose salt)

My brain is the blue flame waiting at the eifel doors (for us, the mended passings).


(naked, rise)

My brain is the color impressed on the bent minds of my generation.


(furrowed noose)

My brain is what we cloud away in sequin dreams of the great unknown.

(chime in false blades)

My brain is the wish she spent on temple stone (where in black breaks, she kept her way).


(counts in magic)

My brain is the song burning the back lights before happiness trembled the worn corners of my hand and all the years adorned me.