Up in time to find a dove confessing to a weightless sliver moon.
Poems, Slightly Used, July 20, 2009
Ask Me How Or Why
Ask me how or why, I simply do not know.
There is no purpose, only setting out.
No work as precious notion.
Or play that means escape.
In the sense that love’s an ocean.
And everything is yes.
That the pieces I imagine, are one grand whole.
And each and every fragment, for ever more is all.
That my very absence, is the presence I will know.
And humbly confess, even as I must love death.
Recently Banned Literature, June 8, 2017
[ 414 ]