07 December 2015


The quality of the future
Has the timbre of a voice awaited
Yet unheard;
Has a motion and an hour
Where in a different place the taste
Of salt, the color red,
Become where I am
When I get there.
It is the touch of a breath
And the weight of a sun,
Yet at this moment,
Its quality's none.


21 November 2015


Reverence is red with desire
For a lover's reciprocation
That has no breath,
Yet is by me breathed:
In the longing is its consummation done,
In my solitary,
And love's bitterness is my portion,
Unpartnered by the other's voice.

01 November 2015


It's an improbable hour
When I realize where I am,
Not by this path nor that corner lit,
Nor under any sky,
But within a confine wrought
Myself upon my skin.
Yet as the sun that lesser angle makes
To impediments of its light
Am I by my longer shadow pulled,
And the path and the corner lit
And every sky there is,
Within this confine's brought.