Building Tide

Mister Shaun.


Love on the Shore

I fantasize of everyday
rediscovering, of countless
moments in-between: observing you
in quiet, from afar, delighting
in intricate motions and in
uninhibited inquisitions. And my mind
wanders to imaginings of inspecting
you, using all
six senses, from the distance
of the length of my nose,
shutting my eyes, as thoughts
suspend themselves like hanging sloths,
while I count sloshes of
my paper-thin heart and listen to them
like waves, crashing into a
crimson shore—one that you
helped to build and nurse to totality.

And I want to tell you
that which my mouth
and words and phrases
couldn’t faithfully
express: the ways by which
you awaken
and invigorate the nondescript and
nascent, carving significance and
wonder from quiet, pedestrian
daily life.

I want to imbue you with the
sense-knowledges of
innumerable, immeasurable ways
by which I admire the youest you
and appreciate silent closenesses,
your soft and gentle glow that
perpetually molds my thoughts, feelings, and
outer and inner realities.


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