the bells peal
toneless
in the hollow place
of the night

and the moon is
the cold light
of tenuous dreams
seen through
the strained fabric of
a threadbare sky

shadows of midnight words
pulled long and thin
by the weight
of expectation
sit by the road
waiting for redemption
that never comes

pallid night flowers bloom
in hidden places
adorned by a feeble glow
without scent
in their ragged flesh

words whispered by
constrained throats
are consumed

devoured by the ravening silence
blasting down
from oblivion

I’ve learned to paint my words
When I’m waiting
for my turn to flow,
I’ve learned to love your
Love language
As if it’s my own taste
Of making blues and jazz.
I’ve learned to capture
Your beautiful face
As like the pink sunset
Makes promises,
And there’s no limit
To the sky that hides and go.