And I kiss you on the ground in a cornfield at night

This is what I might whisper in the rain
Come over and nap with me, I want you
I sleep like a raccoon in you
I sleep in you like I am a raccoon somewhere
Do you ever want to climb into a birch tree with me
Somewhere in the bottom of the rain I want you

Pay attention to the beautiful world.

Something about this guy's intensity just makes me tired, and isn't that kind of sad? Everything exhausts me, maybe especially the internet. He sees it as this magical tool, this miracle of communication that can be used to spread beauty and love and light to people all over the world. What a lovely idea.

"You get to be a part of people's lives on such a crazy level. This is the dream. This is the dream for poets. For somebody who feels, somebody who has something to communicate. This is the dream."

Alabaster light.

first

she was not part of the perfect shell for long
she, separated form from being,
shone in the low light like the nostalgia of a porcelain sink
and still no one said a word. No one said
you did this. just look at what you did.
they worked like they do this every day,
like they do not wear crowns of cold gold
and serve divinity, like they do not
turn the cogs of a functioning miracle.

she said look, look, into the lights
and I brought her to my shoulder and saw --
that I did not know anything,
how to be or stay or where I had been
or where I was going

disoriented, she and I felt
how we were culled and cleaved
and brought back together

she slept and my chest split,
and alabaster light spilled out -- mine, mine, I murmured --
but it was not mine anymore.