"Gradually we become tired of the old, of what we safely possess, and we stretch out our hands again; even the most beautiful scenery is no longer assured of our love after we have lived in it for three months, and some distant coast attracts our avarice: possessions are generally diminished by possession. Our pleasure in ourselves tries to maintain itself by again and again changing something new into ourselves,—that is what possession means. To become tired of some possession means: tiring of ourselves."
—Friedrich Nietzsche; Section 14: “The Things People Call Love,” The Gay Science



lo, i am so high
and just hang sweet in air
feeling so wide

because i can see in front of me
around me
through your windy eyes
i can be pricked by needles of pine
with fingers
i can sink into sod
with careful toes


love in the night*

I’m awake in the dark 
when the wind is voiceless 
when the only refrain 
heard again and again 
is “love in the night; love in the night.” 

In a lake of stars, alive 
held by polished water 
I part the firmament 
and the heavens are hazy 
through dewy lashes 

Ringed by rippling halos 
our faces peer out 
and while my ears are submerged 
i sense the words 
whispered though they are 

*Title courtesy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story of the same name
*Image from RocDornbrook