I will not stop looking for things that look like love
no matter how many I find,
a wet paint brush,
a flat stone to skim across water.
We take everything in our hearts
a wet paint brush,
a flat stone to skim across water.
We take everything in our hearts
everywhere.
If, in death, our heart
energy becomes clouds,
let mine shade Libya, rain in Australia, glow in South Africa –
no love will make better skies than mine -
check
my radiance.
In Portugal, I met a woman on a mountain,
she told me she only looked in one place
for love
her eyes used to be prisoners in her face,
she told me
to say love every time I find it
burning,
and keep its light turning my eyes
in new directions,
so writing home means writing to new addresses.
I met a waitress in Sweden,
She was 29 and could not say 30 in English,
or any other language.
She poured me coffee with a smile that said
I live in the best way, and I loved her
because she loves the small things
I
love
about myself.
I sat on a hill next to the Indian Ocean
with a
fisherman in Cape Town,
we couldn’t keep the hook
off our talking.
I never trusted anyone
who made love look like fishing,
but when the sun set
I loved him before I saw it again.
Life gets better every year
because of what I
collect.
I will love all my summers
before they burn out,
by winter I will still dream out
my heart.
No matter how far the cold reaches
into our bones
as long as we’re alive
we will still exist inside of so much magic.
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