"Blasted black bats in belfry!

They blight the blessed bells!

I am bedeviled by beasts born without beauty nor belief.

Break them from their borrowed burrow!

Banish them back to where beasts belong...

Beneath the boots of their betters."

The lilt of your sea
Is a mystery to me,
The form of your lips
A vast calligraphy.

The shape and stem
Of your new world,
Impregnated with maudlin and marrow,
And how it curled, instead of set.

You are remarkably
Cloud-hidden,
Less an end to everything,
More a furtive wellspring.

O sweet custodian of paradise,
Please measure out your turn of phrase
In the language of light,
As we enter into the uncreated night.

I
wait here alone,
in breathless nothing.
If you tap me,
I’ll shiver like lightning,
or melt like daylight,
or implode like a star,
consumed by the weight of my own gravity.
I am not formed to be caressed,
but would die,
just to be touched,
for a blazing instant,
by you

you get a call
it’s too early
but too late all at once

you get a call
it is after midnight
he has the bottle in hand

you get a call
it is early morning
the pills are down his throat

you get a call
it’s one am
he tells you not to worry

you get a call
you don’t know how to feel
he says he’s done the bottle
(you don’t know if he means the pills or the water)

you get a call
you don’t know what to do

you get a call
it ends too soon