The Choir

Their sound is over me like a pillow
and I close my eyes to succumb to it all.
Their moisture in violet haze is a blanket;
one to guide me through whatever is amiss.
That sweet sonic salutation wanders to me;
over and over I leap with my unleashed heart.
A void is a period to wait and to be nourished
by what will come, each soundless segment
is yet another gift. Rise and fall, melodious and
agitated as though there has ne’er been any
thing but this. Rise and fall with me in time.


And so it is
All other emotions deceive
My senses have rounded on me
And made me a monster
A monster taut with wet rage
Fight me again
Write me a friend
My blistered hands sweat with the beating
I see before me only what came before
And it seems right
Can you castigate this fool
To recede to a woodland
A shrubbed mess of Her creation
Lay still while I bleed
And let me go with the birds at dawn