tethered night

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 -

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