a truism, an overused, abused entrée to the first poem of the day,
they always are night-born, from a slow passage of dark to a light-triggering recording event, a 6 hr. poem period, gestation, incantation

and a sort of relief, temporary

many the miles voyeured, a mentaller feasting sated,
simple rhymes to covet, rephrasing the complexities of
our other lives, where our sub-selfs exclaim, out loud!
this is me unchained, this is me chained, this is...someone

besotted by the rottenness of honesty, once air-exposed,
eyes fixed, no away-turntable, all that well hidden spoilage
in dreams reverent, forsaken, my ashamed-ness, is willing
taken to the scaffold, and by daylight first, perceived, conceived

we may examine the half of me, nay, the all of me, open-face
secrets secreted in my nighttime travelogue, of crimes, revelations,
insects, drownings, strawberry moons, all the fraying edges of a
linen covering, my cadaver pouch of well used words

inscribed thus:

”human born from a sac, and to earth returned, in sackcloth

Remember the moonlight, the sunlight,
remember the starlight, the light that holds together
     the world.

Like this, let the movies and chapters of our lives
go oh, so far, for by the candles, where we rest,  let's imagine
blood red trees, the metallic streets, and the lines between
  dreams.  

Underneath our feelings, the falling in love,
can seem like only glitter among the gold,
yet under the night,  between the spaces of
     you and me,
I sing softly your sweetest song.

For I am captivated by your touch,
let my voice call out that you are mine,
and I alone will build you our home,
for nothing will separate us my dear.

when I was a child I doubted love and it's
dreams, but my sweet dear, you eased into my
heart, and I could sing of our love forever.

And so our hearts will grow together as a vine and our
prayers will flow stronger than the blood of the moon.
And as the binding rays of the sun upholds our  hearts,
and the deer pants for the waters,  so my soul will always

stream to you.