Winding shadowy etches
come whispering at
my window.
Night whispers.
Forgotten whispers...
whimpers of the wind.
Blow blue, wailing as you go.
Crawl inside an
empty paper bag...
play me tunes of the moors.
Give me lonesome tonight;
hollow dirges tonight.
Reality is the whisper
of grasses on a back fence;
the crying of an empty swing.
Some shred caught in a car door
struggles to twist free
with a slap and tug and creak.
Whisper me lies and benedictions.
I cannot hear the truth.