Maybe

Maybe it’s time
To pick up this pen
Again
I’ve come hard
To empty pages
Begging to be writ
With no words
On my tongue
In my breath
Bereft of motion
Emotion
For the life severed
Rent
Maybe it’s time
To pick up this pen
Again
Welcome the age
Of Incense

Brittled bones contract in the cold

Brittled bones contract in the cold
Of a dying river’s bed
Pacing between the gods and dreams
Hoped then unremembered

The feet’s red rust encased with dust
Made sour the miles before
Now brought they here, the mem’ried fear
That I have not the more

time – I measured from dusk to dawn
Quick slipped those miles away
Between these trees and river’s breeze
Exposed in light of day

Were but I here in lack of light
Bereft of birds their song
Could I erase the pace – the space
I’ve come, but now too long

How I delight in lover’s light
Ill gotten in distress
But love light’s loss is just the cost
I sneeze so I be blessed

Here, I’ve found the lack of light
a chancel to my woe
So I baptize this moonlit night
With writhing lover’s throes