In a colossal space called imagination
\na shirt of memory hangs on my shoulders.
\nI can go to everywhere I\u2019ve been.
\nOutside the houses are gone,
\nthe streets replaced.
\nThe people, oh the warm people,
\nwhere have they grown cold?
\nWhat inhabits their bodies now?<\/p>\n
Reality is a deep space.
\nIt has no rules except the heart,
\na colloquy of what consumes me
\nday and night,
\noutside I am lost.
\nMy hands confined to letters,
\nwhere I could drown among gravestones
\nand longing. <\/p>\n
But it is enough to know they are
\nwhere I can be,
\nwhere I can find them.
\nThe touch and kisses I put on paper,
\nand a poem I might find
\nplaced on my desk,
\nfrom somewhere,
\nsomeone,
\nwho loves me still.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In a colossal space called imagination a shirt of memory hangs on my shoulders. I can go to everywhere I\u2019ve been. Outside the houses are…<\/p>\n