open your tired eyes
to the beating sky
put aside the suffering banshees
back to the wine
to the good times
wailing in the night
summoning terrible infants
and french tongues
til the sun up comes
over dirty alleys
grow not old as bars and
bards do not wait
take your wine
drink it in
muses holy medicine
now quick
before you stammer -


she leaves

she leaves
he stays behind, sitting
tries to summon
the stillness
focused on the infinite
.6 of a tear
dirty hands smudge
irritating it more


bonum nocte

i miss you most
whenever we're together
we've come so far
to get so far apart
missing the last chance
to sleep beside each other
and to think the kindest night
was the night we called it over



shivering on cold sheets
the winter wind
or the ache within
the space beside him empty

she warns him of the fire
consuming as it rips through the brush
he'd welcome that death with a kiss
if for but one moment the cold would abate

emptiness overwhelms
no tears left to run
how can this be what was meant to be


frail fingers bark barren
reach heavenward
day and night they grasp
what they will never hold
the sky is but a dream
and still they reach
day after day after night