are we so helpless
to tear ourselves away
from the gravity
of the trinity
of me, myself and I?
this great weight
of isolated community
that presses us deep
and into the earth…
rather I would hide
in the crowd of others
hiding in the crowd
of others

the tree outside my bedroom window
looms black against a wind-night sky
like the dark shouldered outline
of a man standing still to watch me sleep.
it is not comforting in its resoluteness,
it is not endearing beneath the silver,
it is a shadow spectre sent as haunt…
nothing more.
it moans in the moving air.

we want flesh
to break upon flesh
and move with the moon
until we are spent
and waves have settled
into contentment
until the next storm

in these blue quiets,
these haunts of newborn sunlit hours
where morn and eve hold hands
while we all but dream of day,
I love the empty sounds
reminding me that I am alone
and still new break-of-day minted
to watch a cloud drift past behind
a squadron of eager westward sparrows
speaking of how this day is the only day
and every other day is but a shade
lost to itself,
this is hope…