poetry,
she had known,
was love no one could ever
take away from her
and she fancied that,
in her new solitude,
she had piece of mind
among the few words
which kept her feeling human.

stone's throw.
lone crow, bent,
perched, on the back fence.
sometimes, i feel the warm
bent of misery,
washing, ocean's
leagues, untied, into
graceful plays, like
the hue shift of afternoons.
under clouds, feet shuffle
over n around n don't find
meaning out there in gutters
or supermarkets. it
is heavy but bearable.
                                                                                                           arcing over,
                                                                                            sky's cover, oblique,
                                                                                     hangs on the valleymist.
                                                                                 some days, feeling the soft
                                                                                                       hiss of static, i
                                                                                                          smile, out of
                                                                                            habit, or leaflitter, or
                                                                                               every vastness, like
                                                                          our echoes through space seem.
                                                                                     under canopy, feet rustle
                                                                              about, all muddied n finding
                                                       meaning don't matter, out here in hollows
                                                                                                     or grainfields. it
                                                                                       is dizzying yet bearable.

Will you say sorry if i tell the truth
Will you be there if i say i need you
Will you hear me if i say these words

(Will you love me the way i love you?)

(I know you won't)

i wait impatiently in the dark
for the sun to rise again
my anxiousness leaves me
sleepless and restless
seems as if i swallowed the sun
and all that was left was the moon