It could have been an anchor I pushed into you, but the pull was something like a lighthouse. Perhaps we’re a wildfire “because of what happens between ellipses and the continuation that we make love so well we recover our virginity.” I see the city, but we can exist here all-knowing and unconscious, because we’re moving. We mystery: man and wom(b)an(d) vice and never versus – a reversal. Who has the authority to push and pull heaven and hearth from both sides of variability? If only it was like a book with cylindrical binding in the center – pages inside and out, an author given peace to please – light room on a dark horse – a shape in shadows exists while you enter and by no means exit; an image speaks with no prevention, only echo fire. Jump off a building holding hands –what’s the chance you’ll fall on someone you love like an eclipse? Would you recognize sex from a print of my fantasy palm? (My son’s line; my head line; my archer and flame and mineral line) Perception is the story of destiny; how we’re always right on time, stumble and discover we’re home, wiping stroboscopic genitals with sun-dried rags to prepare for free will. So breathe into my character, give me an overabundance of names to balance all those unnecessary superlatives on the exclamation points of a first kiss that happens every day. Circles are the only Lord of Light; they draw all possible combinations back and forth together and feather in orbit. A universal magnetism, desires tamed through indulgence vis-à-vis how blood bleeds: causal, astral, fizzle, stop and repeat. In essence, I would use your face…a photo of your grace…to describe what and how I’m feeling, but some people are out of love, so out of wearing skin that up is down and nothing moves anyway. We have become a most-favored instrument, a means of expression. Do this harmony on my hereafter, because the common gender is obsolete:

                                                                               Love,
                                                                                     Adam Perry

Adam Perry will graduate this year from Naropa University. His first book No One Knows was published by Richard Denner’s D Press several years ago. You may have heard his music with the bands Whitford and Love X Nowhere. The quoted remarks in “Dear Horizon” are from his SO Irene Joyce and the poem is from his forthcoming collection on Monkey Puzzle Press (monkeypuzzleonline.com), entitled fotographs of bones.