thank the gods for this
dull sunrise
as we
give in to the morning
and commence these
oblique rituals

in majestic resonance
the separate limbs of strangers
reach and touch
one up
or
one down

we speak sex,
and the art of
tactile communication
as poems in exile
greedy and grey green,
are whitewashed by winter
and cast in a
slippery spell

fire, fire, fire
the half hands are idle
as the crows call
for uninterrupted sleep
and monsters hold court
with superficial salesmen

one forgotten glass
spilled wine
remembering the old ways
and longing for better days

thank the gods for this
black tongue
and for all the crazy women

is it curiosity,
or ceaseless entropy
that drives us towards
this predetermined destination?

out of control
and fueled by
tomorrow’s fears
we play the game
one last time
as dusty statues fall

spotlight, and the specter of rain
as laughter lingers in the distance
a lone ranger
wanders from lamp post
to stone steps
chilled by
the winds of a
new england night

dreaming in reverse
as outcomes dictate actions
it’s the beginning of the end
of a new beginning

one voice turned
another lesson learned
a new year perhaps
but some things
never change

the final prayer
is just a song
meant to usher us once more
into the night lands