you are in the mist, a grey mist
a beautiful coverlet to the eyes of dawn
you’re standing there, in the mist
all the eyelids fall from lunar spark and come to drape on
my beige undoing of graceful bassoon echoes


in this darkened window frame, I look out
and the beat of life pumps on in the veins of foliage friends


in the mist, all cities are alive in muffled sounds and reaching sighs
why give up so soon?
why give up.. at all?*




S T – 4 feb 14