Sunday, October 30, 2005

Hymn

Outside the window, stacked in lines,
the air hums alive and the
pavement sings with the blood of others;
in this we travel
the barrel, the mechanism,
pointed at us from afar.
We sing the skies' fires,
the body moves continuous
as a ballet or an imagined
spatial transformation.
Sing these songs, these
hymns of the dead,
the ghosts wander hungry
and there is not enough
to share.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Two Fragments

1.
Leviathan, my companion,
this sweet abyss
probing with its tongue
my depths--

2.
someplace safe, within;
the warm place amidst
sorrow. When the rain
stopped, it left scars.