In Cemetery Time Poem by J Knight

whisper, gracefully beyond
your existence-
your most alive dreamy things destroy me,
I explode because they are too bright

your sad look
Sitting in cemetery time
(twisting warmly, tomorrow) in the crazy palm tree garden

in the fourth dimension talking to me,
touching your face very gently, slowly,
as when the wind touches your hair, walking in love
the summer silently everywhere- hoping;

remember
the star of your slow silver:
imagine me with the thought of its space and peace,
identifying touch and gold on skin

(The only thing inside me that exists, and
the fog of your existence is beautiful but ends in the cemetery)
I flash and escape
on the ground, at the end of the day, in such precious sleep.