Current mood: lonely At 8:15 the evening creeps
along the tops of houses
to steal the sunlight from the sun
and hide it in the sand.

By 9:00 the sun has gone to sleep;
the sand’s still glowing red
in strips of fire beneath the sky
like writting from God’s hand.

Come 10:00 the ocean soaks the sand
then throws a sad and empty mist
out from the depths onto the land
to choke with heavy ancient things
and pale years piled up like sticks
in portent of the end of man.
God holds our hand up to that end,
by 12:00 it’s hard to feel it.

On the Hour After Midnight
Current mood: enthralled

The day has fallen softly out of sight;
my lamp casts pregnant shadows on the floor
that lap up at the subtle edge of night
and settle full and close around my door
while little rills and rivulets of light
snake stolen paths and quickly loose themselves
in venturing on that foreign shore.

A veil hangs from the jamb, all common things
are put away behind it.