in the eyes of his voice
speaking catatonic
tongue
forming
triangles
of sentences formulating a thought
borne of experience + wisdom ... or something
else.
gather
in the crook of
such
intermediacy mingling like a guitar in tune with footprints of nitetime air in the bend of
conversation glowing as a star on fire

i heard him in is reverence and saw him in his undressings.

or
did i.

maybe
as i
held her hand fingering mine inside
the caverns of this perforation we are unfolding as i
unfold
mine

and standing at the bar,
two dread.heads
elbows deep to the world spinning of noise and voice
leaning in
to the cold wood and brew smells brewing out.back

i told him i was letting it unfold and seeing
where it goes
like origami
but the opposite
he asked me
norigami
is what we

decided on calling it.