Two Step, Twirl and Fade

The room is tiny but clean
despite dust passing through rays of light like dancers in a waltz;
individual specks disappearing,
invisible,
as others gracefully cross the threshold
creating a seemingly endless, silent choreographed number.

I step outside and take in all isolation has to offer;
dwarfed by nature
illusions of grandeur erode with every degree of horizon,
the universe leans in close to whisper
"there is no light dancing inside you, you are dancing in light"

But Aren't We All Tourists?

There is life down here;
a teeming, delicate microcosm.
I move like a leaf blowing across an empty street
to my always transient destination
with the hot, thick air in my lungs
as I toy with perfecting that New York walk.
you know the one,
no contact
weaving through the walking dead
like a needle which desires the finished stitch
more than the hand pushing it through fabric;
yet I'm tethered to nothing
unchained
until my fucking blackberry catches a signal.

Like Flesh

Her fibers engorged
drinking deep the flowing emotions
moving gently with the rhythm of his hand
scratching ink and metal
turns the desert into an oasis
words, shift back and forth,
feverishly scrawled until
the poet is spent
the paper's thirst subsides;
in the quiet moments thereafter
they stare and embrace
letting go the moment
until their passion again swells