dear beardtongue

o, how long it's been

since i put soul

to lips (or, for that matter,

lips to soul!) (swallowing sound) (effect)

once i was thick with it,

but eros sickened

went

after being vaulted and vaunted

someone defaulted

(but i don't think it was i)

(for as they say: / was not i)

now, here, without the seasons

i find i am found (but lost, but lost)

(at half the cost)

the shift i wear i wear well

no longer weary-worn or -torn

by ether-things by other-things

by ground i am ground

by (t)reason shorn

i mostly sit and walk

on dirt, alone, nothing

has grown in me,

(save child after flowering

child) (each sex a stranger flower

than the last) but i remain

unblown

for i have not wintered

in years now

so how (now) how then

spring? (or even fall?)

if i could miss you

i would with all my mouth

(all month long)

if i could kiss you?

torn.

for i find myself

minding my

earthlythings,

for i am newly made of flesh

newly flesh-bound

and bo(u)rn(e)

yours, love, o.