Sunday, December 4, 2016

Why cure words?

The muse is afar 
A single soliloquy is 
all I can muster 
I have forgotten the 
words of loneliness 
the syllables of despair

The drifting moon 
cracks open the secrets 
of longing but the text is 

Why do you call forth 
in unfathomable gestures? 
Can't the rain be simple? 
Can't the dusk just slip
into the script of the night
unwritten? Can't love be 
longed for silences? 

Why cure words? Why 
run through language 
holding our hands like 

Aug. 19, 2016

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