You can come to me in pieces, in fragments, in dust balls and miniature cartoons written on rice,

You can come to me in mathematical formality, in hidden torah messages, in spurts and starts and stutters,

You can come to me in daisy prints, in symmetrical beauty, in faded jeans and yellow tee,

You can come to me in tears, in bloody rage, in torpid depression and shallow ego,

You can come to me in letters, in signals sent on a breeze, in wisps of a falling feather,

You can come to me in hours, in long sunny days, in swimming through clear running water,

You can come to me in riddles and rhymes, you can come to me in backtrap contraptions and obtuse designs, you can come to me in hast, you can come to me doing handstands,

But come to me in ways unknown, in dune dancing rhythms, in speckles and spots of closed eyes,

But come to me in transgression, come to me with valor and chivalry, come to me in shinning armor, come to me in sunset scenes,

But come to me in midnight's caress, in crescent embrace, in swings and merry-go-rounds,

But come to me in along the shore, in skittering stones of breaking waves, in tip toeing fashion,

But come to me in character, come to me ready to dance, come to me ready to run, come to me ready to flee, come to me ready to fight, come to me ready to kill come to me ready to die, come to me ready, come to me ready to jump over fences, come to me ready to bolt, come to me ready to scream and laugh and shake and cry and fear and grin and come to me ready to do it again and again and again, but come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me… 

Image by Catherine Dentino