Sunday, March 05, 2017


: Of Grief III
One more night
tumble from grace:
I abandon my senses,
scatter over the gutters
and pray for sleep...

In corners dank and
pungent I find them,
lurking behind my smile.
Throw them across the horizon
that they may cease to be...

Why don't you come
out of your darkness?
Shine once more
like the dying sun!
I curl into a lie and roll...

They cry, but we never hear.
They recede further
into memory;
and in it we drown
behind them...

Do you hear screaming
when it's hoarse?
Do they still rise
like the moon
bloody and round?

(Originally posted on Aug. 1, 2004; re-posted on July 24, 2006 and July 26, 2014)

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