She was like
Joni Mitchell
in her reckless years
and we lived
in the canyon
of occasional
distance between us,
the tap of 
piano keys 
stop-and-start songs
reminders of harmony, 
our house on the hillside
that seagulls would visit
while traveling

I had been content 
to write reminiscing of you
to the strains of your music
this tapestry of notes,
images of you content, creating,
like wind against skin,
the boundaries of 
body and elements
defined, Id embrace you
my body reverberating
like a flute of clay,
a remembered union of
thoughts, touch and warm bodies
that shed words like clothes, 
the notes intermingling streams,
on the ground, dissolving

 Jonathan Bohrn (2008)

House in Canyon, Los Angeles, CA



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