Lost Way to the Sky
tiny poems by Grant Hackett
4/30/17
i heard a life fall or i heard nothing at all the arms of the cross at my feet
4/29/17
will i see through the window that has fallen asleep my casket carrying its rain
4/28/17
with the taste of stars in my mouth whose wisdom am i ready to learn
4/27/17
that part of the sky that fell into my mind is to whisper the name of the raven
what can you write on the skin of the past that only the sleepers will read
4/25/17
the gate of the moon left open is to love what i cannot know
4/24/17
there comes a day when it will not open when i ask the sun its troubles
there was a black branch touching the silence where neither could remember waking
4/23/17
from hands you will never see spilling music for the first time because you are just arrived
streets walking with their heads held low :: i climb the stairs of the rain
4/22/17
i love this song that was not heard until the moon was warm from its birth
4/21/17
this is the art of birth :: that the cold and the dead shall blossom
4/20/17
it is always there gathered in scars takes nothing away
4/19/17
the prayers you have answered are always somewhere else yet so close as to be inside
4/17/17
it is the mouth of the moon i feel against my side :: where the wound of my death is not yet real
4/16/17
you were always no further than the moon can sail no more than my eyes could gather
4/14/17
what you say is nothing we say about you and the arrival of our silence is too late
4/11/17
what is there in me no heavier than lightning yet helpless in the gravity of light
4/9/17
for the sake of all burials and the flames of spring :: shall i marry the grief of the soil
4/6/17
all night long knowing and not knowing the figure asleep on the shore
4/5/17
there is a wild place we can build in the rain :: and give to each other the calm of night
as if someone in our shape enters the sun before us there is a hole there in the light
4/3/17
what does the sleep of the rain have to do with music the kingfisher heard
you keep calling and calling to the beginning of listening :: dawn
4/2/17
the downhill slope of endless light :: or the moon who cannot stop listening
whose question is the music you alone can dream
4/1/17
before there is knowledge we know how the hands and the trees will be broken
how far is the reach of a flash of darkness from this nest of borrowed rain
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