Pulse And The Empty Know

There's always a taking back 

  land to sea 

a reclaiming 

an emphasis

to  the sparseness forgotten 

  the womb 

the now place of you 

and all in between. 

The synthesized bird

is still a chirp.

The femur

a bone 

and sunshine too. 

Idiosyncrasy 

is the synchrony

of being. 

Isn't it obvious? 

  Not so really. 

But yet you know 

hot gum on asphalt 

just like you know the love 

you want.