It didn't matter what we did,
Together while the light lay down--
Eat something,  watch TV, get high
On every breath we shared before
The darkness called,  like memory,
Like a thing almost remembered,
So sure we were that time would leave--
Unwanted guest, unlikely song

The brown leaves holding fast
To the grey branches
Of the post oak tree,
Above the unblemished snow,
Are more beautiful
Than apocryphal angels

Empty eyes where you
Once reflected all the world
As it existed

A broken heart doesn't stop.
It's like she told me;
Some things are worse than death. Yes

should it all be quantified,
this spirit-laden world,
broken to its smallest piece
without a secret left
except the love
that contradicts
all circumstance, defying language,
stone carvings and disease,
unguided shots at shadows,
my own transgressions sacramental
and profane,
with which
the fruit
of paradise
is tasted
on
a dying tongue

not long this measured
universe
shall entertain
my thoughts,
if they be fancied
mine
you understand the
the infinite uncertainty
loosely scattered in bright flashes,
dark skies,
increasing silence
laced between
the thunder

touch our shared confusion,
once more portrayed
as good intent,
black ink
in darkness so profound
as gravity tilts
what otherwise might stand
as roses
on a twisted stake,
unclear the aspiration
of an intermittent beauty
falling loosely
on an unmade bed