i would give her grizzled kisses as
her lips would skirt the misty fringes
of a beard so long and seldom lived-in.
she comes to trace the borders of everything;
felt affinity with earth and space in the autumn breeze.
does she stop to smell the cinders?
"would you postulate that god himself did make
the leaves as flowers that fold in orange and gold
for a simple blossom and an endless death?"
she stirs the grass for a candid moment
of unrepentant joy with a simple sweep of her dress,
and the sweet of her collarbones, pulled sharp and thin,
gives way to something quiet in
the moments of tenuous conversation
that creeps unlikely through the teeth and tongue
boldening syllables like a forgotten dialect
of tacit and tasteless love, but she's only left to laugh
as i promise, "i'm not devendra banhart,
my songs only get better from here."
but i meant it. goddamnit i mean it.
Damn. There really isn't much else that can be said. You're very good even when you're not spot on, but when you hit that mark, dear God do you hit it. There's just so much subtle under spoken power to this and I love it.
Ever since Mikey left you've been my go-to for consistent blockbusters.

"Success is as dangerous as failure. Hope is as hollow as fear." - from Tao Te Ching