House of Heart

Deep blue facade overlooks

a disorienting expanse of trees

whose branches spread out

like moths, deep indigo

easing between their wings.

The world exists in

secret alcoves with sepia

faces that form mosaics of


Beneath a streetlamp on the

boulevard Garbo holds a cigarette

between fingers the color of birch.

In sleepless nights I drift on a river

of primeval dreams waiting for you to

show me there is nothing ordinary

about the dark.

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