storms to the west

there are times when darkness lies forgotten upon my skin
hollowed

broken
knowing starlight is somewhere 
      but feeling the microfiber of grey
rub annoyingly
the
wrong
way

friction becomes current becomes 
wind 

moving things unseen--forgotten

i notice & refuse to open
a box of paints

eyes close 

songs are heard
--whisper tracings--
again with the dove-grey 

faint & haunting
there
there
the crackle of dreams & place
grace
glory
and
knowledge find the honeyed bleed of this night
and
shutter in their brilliant sureness

soon

the song of birds

 morning holds a pink hollowness 

haze soaking to ground 

sultry--heavy 

waiting for a small chance of rain 

no redemption 

for this lost day 

words narrow 

    held against the soil to become something else 

entirely 

breath holds to the same pink hollowness 

awaiting the splendor of hope