rain lashed, the lake leads nowhere. direction is the disease

of roads. standing falling naked without speaking. to hear

the whisper. there was in my baptism a stone that i bathed.

 

wild cosmos. silent piano. the self of the space

between us. voice reduced to ash. to mouth.

taste. time feels chilled washing over skin.

 

silence in a poem grows with not one

mystery less than needed. guardian of what

least understands. heart open to all. and to none.

 

moon shining through the corner of an open mouth. a ferris

wheel burning in the garden of night. grandmother looks older

than when she died. the child's eye relives. remembers.

 

leans into the wind examining life for wings.

at the center of being whispers swarm. hands

which cannot stop the little good gone wrong.

 

from a chair in the backyard. a mountain i've never

seen hides the orb that never changes. what happened

to my people who feared the ocean's edge.

 

stars pound on the roof but no one hears.

a lost soul settles to the benthic floor. polished

darkness. weight of silence. have mercy.

 

an oracle's river flows from the sea. water

no one sees. yet i feel a body beneath my feet.

like walking on a snake. cold as the flesh of shadow.