Thursday, August 10, 2017

storms to the west . . .











There are times when darkness lies forgotten upon my skin
hollowed & broken
knowing there is starlight
but feeling the microfiber
of
grey
rub annoyingly
the
wrong
way
wind moves things unseen--forgotten
as i notice & refuse to open
a
box of paints
eyes close & songs are heard
--whisper tracings--
again dove-grey & faint & haunting
there
there
the crackle of dreams & place
grace
glory
and
knowledge find the honeyed bleed of this night
and
shutter in their brilliant sureness

soon