going to heaven

It defeats the purpose

Of a perfect carcass

To be ripped apart like no one

I cared about; yes, killing of the sun

And the rising of the moon all

Happen without any fall

And, am I supposed to wail

When all of them crawl

For mercy

And what for which I cannot wait and see.

ending rain
crawling cold air,
open again

clad by rain
ants climb up a face-
pausing to touch.

moans while

a woman of much hair,

strokes bald sky.

driven dry

Blinded are we, after every rain
Pressing a body as you sit with it
Alone in the remains of the dry,
Strictly, that moment in our time
I do not feel the cold
Or the gliding of rain drops
To meet the distinctive deaths
While dry bodies like us gape by.
At the growing of the grass
Or the opacity of the clouds,
Simmering down from its great
Pure density.
And not at the sighs you make not for yourself
But at my despair, at my hanging heart
At the loose end of a chin which disguises
The newly green self pity to a morass
Of inimitable sorrow and irredeemable loss
And, the eye newly black from the previous rain
Impervious to your strains of affection
On which I put down a heavy metallic lid.

(p)reparation

At three,
Time comes easily
With single movements in the air
And jumpy noises,
Gather the soul to a calmer ball
And hurl it forward
To augur a sleep
From bad dreams from
Home.

oh i never forget the voices
which spoke even through the fan
with an insistence that preceded the clouds
they raved and wanted you to heed
but you rolled them over like thunder,
damn, the woman never speaks.
i slightly wonder if this refusal is defiance
or a ceasing of a murmur at a wish resigned.
clad we all are in the sorrows of the night,
only i hang back with the weight of murder
you know, the deaths you court through senses,
all of them, the five, the five wily ones.
what with the hollow still dug up in your heart
to exorcise the thousand tiny voices.