Blindness : Unfolding

My heel screeches on wood as the
clouds come up: I can feel their damp.

Ecstatic waves blow and blow to
make this bed a ship in storm.

Dew on my tongue and haste on my lips;
a train screeches a mile or two away.

The ground is a taut skin and it soothes me
as life in blood can soothe all in passing.

This dark keep is a warmth to adore
from now until the end; a blackness looming.


Bygones with wine
in a barrage of time
is how I see what
came before.

Electric and proud,
the blue, sunken shroud
that carried you to me;
to this crumbling shore.

Clouded islands
float overhead
distilled to a fine mist;
watertight and keening.

Walk and talk
to the moon and back,
it is always this place;
always this feeling.