Night Echoes

The night
Won't save

Or anyone really
But especially not you

It is
The moment
Of death
Of the echo

There's no salvation
Not in death
Not in the night

Only an echo
Only a repetition
Something played
And over
That won't
Let you sleep

Until death
Until life
Is gone
From the endless
The echo
Of salvation

But the night
It certainly won't


Still Waters

I woke this morning
with the awareness of you
lying beside me
your arms around me
your breath on my neck
your heart beating in mine
deep in the center of all that I am

You run deep through my veins
mingling in warm blood
quenching my withering thirst
flowing endlessly through
the basis of all that I am

Always there
Through unstable events
Through mitigating circumstances
Through life and death
in me and through me
and all that I am



We see him ageless now, but ancient,
with senility assumed,

because we skulk around
behind his back in alleged secrecy,

squirreling away these
f r a g m e n t s

assumed as something lost --

Finders keepers after all
and if you snooze you lose ...

Does he really never notice?

This coercing...

This cajoling...

This childish clamoring for more
While we curse this chaos
and call it's creation coincidence

refusing all responsibility for it's reality
or repair...

Somehow it feels just like forgiveness
when we've thieved only to waste, watching
all appreciation slip away in grains of sand,
within these missing moments fleeting
in a gift we'd rather steal, as
we're all stupider
than we've
in his
wisdom he
allows it -- leaving
minutes unattended -- in this
lesson carefully crafted, then ignored;
letting yet more fall, he entrusts delinquent
stewards with a whole new day we've surely
stolen, in all this careless waste of time.