Dark remote places, candle sticks in my back pocket,
seaweed among my feet, suffocating breaths of air
worn out thoughts in mind, no heart beat in the solar system.
Woman can I touch you, listen to your whispers,
feel your fears, explore your sharp tempests of grains,
your moon lines, violin pathways curved pale drops,
vines and stars among your hair, tunnels in time that dims away.
Woman I am a root coming from dark places, dried up,
waterproof like a piece of plastic washed to the shore at night,
let me talk to you, one word one smile is enough
an open lamp on a dark remote island.