looking at the church under the nights eyes
hoping these simple prayers will suffice
searching for god through dark times

and i'm running out of rhymes
my brain is just filled with apologies
standing in the corner with my desperate pleas
it's just a simple yes or no
where do all my unanswered prayers go

Water drips
timing seconds
one by one
light to dark
lay me to sleep
give me playbook as a pillow
cover me with old papers
whіsреr me headlines
breathe deeper
move slower
crawl closer
stay longer
discomb my eyebrow
grasp the wrong elbow
mess sugar with pepper
till the next season come

again and again, the world renews the spike in the palm
and north winds bear down upon the inky black
where dead stars illuminate the zodiac of our inner defeat.
an upturned display of seedless fruit against a backdrop
of discrete harm... and the south wind scratching at the twinkle
of a last act. a mirage of poppies and golden wheat
from which the bread of our maker is baked into the glamor
of so much solitude in a galaxy
in your house.

ten wings on five
black birds
sitting together
on the mulberry tree
set flight
all at once
startled
just one set of wings
the ones
on the woodpecker
his *******
stayed
pecking
as
the stealthy yellow
and white striped cat
clawed her way up the bark
closing distance
he just kept at it
some insect
peckpeckpeck
or the wood itself
and the cat her claws
driven into the bark almost
at the same intensity
rose almost to the limb
that held the peckerheaded
intenseness
of the stalked in
his one-sighted business,
as the cat,
on the limb below ,
close close as breath quickened
back arched
hunched
woody flew off.
***** willowed, scented the
limb the ****
crack of the *******
and
licked her paw.
No loss.
There is always
tomorrow.

She arched, and peeled
a red plum into my
mouth, including
the ragged pit;

though she had the charm
of a pumice stone, I did
not spit or complain.