to think the night kind is to believe in
song say it is kind, but not so loud
in an other song, you can hear it think
but not as loud it is kind, this night
with lost dream and lost language bereft
song, lost to kindness and dream -
night with its many deaths is a song
read with the eye of a pen dipped
in unfettered ink with a hunger leavened
and fit to taste - remnants of what
I knew but longed to dislodge from
arid haunts & inarticulate wounds -
if the tethering of night to stillness
were a given, I could believe in
riversand enough to conjure up the
absence of sky - if imaginings
of the tether were to roam skysand
I could believe again in riversong -
Like this:
Like Loading...
Gathering just-a-bit-o moss 