this is an attempt at a spoken word piece, wrote...

i wonder what it is about april specifically
that had it stamped the transitionary month...

the cries of the lark do me in,
carrying with it – the eastern winds...

my throat pulsates while you nock
your words on your tongue...

misery is a quiet resource; an unknown quantity of...
you were the oasis, the empty vessel that life...

the first time i'd seen you was in
a little café downtown – stars aligned...

the fireplace crackles, washing us in lights
of oranges, reds and yellows – the nights...

you cup soft breath in your palms,
offering it to the stars as an exchange...

Around three in the morning
your soul was still fluttering...

you sink carnivorous teeth into the
sweetbread, lamenting that it tasted...

the hands quiver when it comes to
penning you a garland of poems...

absence is the gentle undressing of self; what...
the ocean churns itself in playful delight...