What strange nostalgia

What strange nostalgia
Has found me
Has gripped me here
licentious longing lingering
over state lines in deep Pennsylvania woods
Allegheny river crossing 3 angels golden
and a hot afternoon sun.
I’ve dreamt of open fields
Canonized in deep recesses of the mind
Fed through flickering frames
playing over and over
In the part of me
That has learned to love
Things that have never been mine.
I’ve dreamt of still lakes
Deep in a foyer of foliage
Disturbed by youth
Dashing through wet earth
Tearing through air
Creating ripples
That reach every edge
Of shores that swerve
The coastlines of consciousness.
I’ve dreamt of forests
Echoing the laughter of fireflies
A canopy of galaxies streaking
a fever of stars falling and
flaming just beyond fingertips.

It all comes so sudden now,
through the trees and the universe between us.
And though things don’t seem to change so much anymore,
I can’t seem to shake it off.

And if one day You are without me

And if one day
You are without me,
Meandering the dream of waking life-
An idle cloud blown by a breeze
On the cobalt palette of sky-
And you have left me behind
Because our love is dissipated,
Then
You should not look for me
In the prism of morning.
I will not be on the crest of any mountain,
Nor in the whispered weeps of the willow tree.
The latent waters of desire will not ripple with the stone of my memory.

But if the vines of uncertainty
Have gripped
And grounded you,
And you find yourself
Taking root,
And if I sit in the back of your mind-
Decomposing as leaves do and dark bark,
As the unhurried death of autumn does,
Then dig yourself into me,
Plant yourself in me.
And we will spring forth from the loam
Of our undying love.

You will not forget me so easily.