which drinks my fears,
my gentle laughter pale,
which sleeps beneath this fragile life.
Grayish dawns in memory unfold,
a sun, the Son of spirits drifting.
I shift my dreams to tombstone themes
where breathing sanctifies the dirt,
the hallowed grounds that dwell
like mourners in my soiled mouth.
I count the oaths, the promises, thoughts
whispered dead upon my grieving head,
upon those thinning lips which lisp
eternal in our Father's ear.
Weep now, speak rich in sour milk
of we forever dead and dying.
Bring tears to rest along the flowers
blooming into darkness... give cheer
to those who came before...
for we shall all the sooner follow.
Gold trophy winner
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