an echoed moon
on barely born hours
half moon, half
half self –
gilded by miracle
this pure instant
when no one
now I have a can
and all the time in the world
I left the office shy of two o’clock
gaining inside a shudder that could reach
just beyond the boundary of solitude.
I raised this old neck of mine
the sky was me.
Belonging to dreams we no longer dare to glimpse
futures too powerful too bear
fears that out of plain habit
covered me like husks of wisdom.
So eternally blue – with the intensity of an S
similar to the smell of dawn, depths of now
bright as selflessness
blue as sky.
A kind of rejoicing, a mystic’s forgotten book
and the glory of erased words!
TO return, live a thousand sleeps
one more lonely death
varying degrees of godless hours
those dissipated moments
hungry of freedom, so easily obscured.
Bury me in lands of mute plants.
Blind pasts, unimportant futures.
The sky was me, I turned
I had gone away… hands overflowing possibility.