Angels chorus the call
looking down through shredded clouds
there in the heart the tempest stirs
as the moon pours another cup of desire

the winds are calling out
thoughts that bleed through
vanishing armor
the waves of your tempest are crashing down

upon a knee the supplicant sighs
of what color you will make of me
I call to the night to make me lonely again
but love pierces gentle at first

dessert hearts by now
do we pray for this rain
some silent entreaties
stir the angel’s choir

Godot set his lips
Pagemaker set a tone
Oh how long Penelope had waited
They were milling amongst
Their intrepid histories
Pulling scenes and constructs from the past
Patching together justifications
On the edges somber souls danced
Repetitive steps that bound them to the master
Godot smiled bitterly
Holding firmly the blade
If only the script allowed
Someone to sever every tether
From now to eternity
Oh how long Penelope had waited

almost morning
eerie quiet
nervous eyes past
shady alleys
sleepy silence
drenched in dewdrops
waiting for the Sun to spark

stone cold storefront
streetlight
bus stop
miles and miles and
just beginning
try to walk past

my thoughts spinning

webs of madness
in the dark

My hands are now my father’s hands
baked and beaten by a life
the scars of toil and weather
mark passages

knuckle busting bolts
sun wind cold
and misguided hammers
sculpted these derma landscapes

I hold them under the water
as the ocean and I return
they become distant and diffused
as they gently float away