Always there;
Spun silver on peach,
Leaking little agonies
That even with the itching
Never heal.

I love the long grass
A shady summer tree
The sound of childrens laughter
Because it's free

Summer moons
At the end of June
When the crickets are all you hear

But most of all I love the fall
And the turning of the leaves

Give me fields where daisies grow
And Queen Annes lace in bloom
Golden rod that gently nods
And of course my Aster Blue

Aster Blue I remember You
A true heart open wide
There's a special place in Gods embrace
For one so sweet and kind

And so I love that time of year
When the asters come to bloom
I know that you are out there too
Sharing the same moon

I am curled
into a ball
holding myself
together
trying to
squeeze
from me
the poison
past if
I squeeze
hard enough
maybe I
will become
a hydrogen
bomb
and implode
obliterating
this memory

I.

This, a final offering,
before the clipping of wings.
A love like blood,
oh anathema.
A grey declined to black,
oh herem.

It means salvation
knelt with darkness.


II.

So it be!
So it be!
So it be!

Ring the bell,
close the book,
blow out the candle.

Douse the sacred sun
and find belief caught in fishermen's nets.


III.

In silence of angels,
climbing broken ladders,
no ascent, no longer.

Salvation has
knelt with darkness.