Sirens shine in you and me.
The line between the lights goes through us
and the horizon fades in ambiguity of our closeness.
A verse of lost trees is there and the wheels of memorable failures.
There are birds stumbling on your neck and the wind hides in your hair,
i know you and there’s freedom in that.
But the desire never dies with knowledge
rather it seeks punitive pleasure in truth.
With the terrain my love goes in the face of changing hues…
in my sins of freaking roads the language of roughness becomes one with the tangerine meditation.

……………………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Dana Martin