The Crossing

someone lives here
on the other side of the valley 
longing for horses, interstates 
silicone cathedrals 
and other streams of lost sensation.


in the mirror, real life seems 
impossible. intense, erotic and 
spiraling like a swollen river. 


he peers out, another 
object in a room, somewhere 
in borrowed space, leaping and
dancing with soft delight. 


together, we invent 
caves and caravans, ancient travelers in a 
midsummer spirit world. the mountains are 
mercury and the textures of skies appear in
untamed chemical splendor.


the crossing
implies a belief in miracles, 
spiritual masters, strangers seeking 
guidance in another lonely hand.
this, too, is right now.

5 thoughts on “The Crossing

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