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Was it you or hope that opened that silent door
not two nights ago?
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Star-surfing through the sinewed night;
tender tendrils of smokey cloud;
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That which is precious is made more so by absence,
just as the heart fondles memories more kindly than presence.
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Harmonies of truth,
how they stoke the fire long dormant!
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I can grow deams in the sky
like candyfloss
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I will not throw my words
at your glass bones
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Ideal, but safest
in the night-capped mind,
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You are that moment
before the eclipse
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It was seven o'clock
when that incessant wail woke me
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You wear motherhood
as though you were born to don its crown.
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Smudged
like your every promise,
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I used to be Midas-touched
and flawlessly erected to stand for ovation
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Subtle interplay
between the ladies and their jewels
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The universe down his throat
like he swallowed it.
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