a toddler with arthritis who needed flowers and stars
to comfort me from the body dark with pain
awake at night and not wanting anyone to worry
awake at night aflame and wanting more
nothing solid and determined just more until years later
I carved echoes of names into rocks for hours.
I was a child of inner worlds but outer friends,
opening up to me like secret cabins in the woods.
Culverts large enough to climb through
hear the river roaring out
we were pirates we were explorers
and the circle of world outside was boundless as it was
bounded by shimmers of light before dark.
But after dark the worlds multiplied
stars the stories vessels in my arms
acting shows from my own excited curiosity
friends props to create the perfect scene
and we'd lie with our backs on the tall grass
watching the dark and hiding from our parents
too deep in to care for curfews.
I haunted the woods alone,
puberty opening up texture and fetish and face
and I wanted to be naked with the trees trace my body
the minds strange sexual synapses,
girls and boys still confused me
and I had an infinite horizon of mind inside
I was vulnerable and eager to please
and I had been captured by cruel masters
forced to face tortures nightly with a girl I didn't know
and sometimes I was the cruel master but gentle and affectionate too.
but soon I felt the night escape me
isolation became a pit boundless
as it was bounded by loneliness and lies and intellect
when the wind gave me stories no one wanted to share anymore
it was beer and weed and girls and parties
and I just wanted to create things
to see my soul echoed into the rocks.
I tasted cosmology and long distance relationships
always the girl who would be gone next semester
the universe untraceable as I was desperate to hold it
and when I shared with others the formation of matter and stars
the pieces of the beautiful puzzle shifted around like sunsets
like light flickering out of the culverts, like dramas I had dreamed
joint pain receding like tide and still wanting more
but always the distance.