Saturday, October 11, 2014



     I love not the chill of night
          Not in this winter
     Where the spaces are too wide
         And the silences too empty
     I wake in that dark
     Shaking for light in a false dawn
     And I am filled by this life
          Utterly unremarkable

     This is a house of winter
     Where every wall sticks fast
          And burns deep
     I see figures accusing dim
     Through breath-limned window panes
          And fingers tracing clear
     Mark a stroke for each untenable failing
          'til their eyes glint
              like flaked obsidian
     Through the bars of my solitary cell

     In a room insulated
     By a million years of death
     I tear skin from muscle
     Searching for life
     In the warmth of my own blood
     I kneel on virgin knees
     And no rage breaches my flesh
     Only hard tears and cold

     While the gods sit mute
     And politely consider
     This hollow vessel

    I know but one revelation

     I weep for stones