Hope

wrap me 

coiled sheaf

the grace of god has fallen from your eye

 i am withered with memory

withered but not worn

in my hair are garlands 

that were shorn 

from the heads of angels

 within the cup of knowing

held in its vast wilderness of joy

 now severed from the branches

that once marred these walls

 searing melody

i have seen the answers 

of my heart

 hope 
restored

Incisors

They come for me

their sharp little incisors of hate

waiting at the gate of time

as rabid newts

swimming in the sea of fear

grey limpit suckers

attached to feet

clinging to rocks

as the waves wash over

as tidal currents pull me into segments of loss

loss

that dies on the breath of dawn

loss that wheres a hat

that has no name

winding down the sun

from its window

breaking up light

with a hammer of spite

go forth into the dream

with a torch in thy hand

let the beacon be lit

for rain to wash away the sorrow 

i weep