Morning grey through crooked blinds
but blind shall see via the conjurer who's arms are
black with midnight oil
and fervor fire lit in the
interim ecstasy
(5:27am)

Entwined in this familiar
formless space where only
warmth circles the vacuum like a
depression's exorcism

I got two hours of sleep,
Argon bellow behind the pillow
muffled with lips
back to the cooled wall
yarn of arms
resting heads
complimenting an imaginary pine forest
and titled poets sit mocha infused and spell-cast
afterwards watching lights wake with winter

Peter Sivo Band's "Come My Love"
At the time of writing this,
the daughter of a spectacular madman wrote me a letter
just came in the mail!
"KEEP THE BEAT"
I will, oh
I will.