The weaving willow
Stops playing
Night seeps in
As so much water from the ceiling
Which the manager calls condensation
And you doubt yourself
Your hands
The whole lot of it
A voice lost before the ringing phone stops
Category: Uncategorized
The Near Suicide of the Universe
A spider’s line
Between death and life
We walk
We pace
Imbalance in any system
Solar to physiological
We die
A Thought
For your trust
I would keep my hand extended
Through the years
Country Promise
Wildborn lady, kickfire bride
Heaven promised us more than one night
Let me tame you tonight
Wander your rivers
Pace your tides
Let me hold you at night
and carry you through th’ deepest parts
of your aching untrusting heart
Heaven gave us more than tonight
To make this right
Wildborn lady, kickfire bride
Your hands never tremble in mine
Let me hold you tonight
On the Subject of Everything
Here’s the pull
Where we divide
Brains versus heart
Everytime
Walking the Bridge
He’s ahead of me as usual
Enamored with the scenery
Waterfall interrupting waterfall
The bridge sways
I catch
myself
His long strides take him to the center
Where he stands
to look over the edge
And dream of skydiving
-to wait
For me
The Hunger
One more word from thee
Before the night is full
And I shall rest in writing prose
The teasing light dips ever lower
And to my bright spot I can’t help but glower
For it shrinks too as night fills black
A moon halving quartering gone slack
Ah, but new days bring happy song
Of all the birds in all the throng
But
One more word from thee…
For the Birds
The hope of a thousand glances
He speaks to me
I’m adorned as a dove
Feathers ablossom
Cooing my adoration
He speaks anew
I’m in flight
Hallelujah
I must settle to make my response
Coo’. Coo’.
Faltering in the Light
Hope
-my shadow in conversation
-my lamp in midnight
-my wings o’er the cliff
I speak
I wake
I jump
And hope
Ill Decision
Crafted my grave from words again
A friendship for the fallow field
Ravens pick over my cast bones
Fortune reads, “not well”
Which to believe
I’ve laid my body down
Cast my die
Played my hand
All is not well
But
Tomorrow I will rise again
Turn my back to the field
And see where walking wills me
Whether a fresh grave
Or a tired life
I choose
To rise again
Pick a path
March my ragged body North
West
AbyKittiwake 