Sunday This

 

lavender fading
fast in the west

never another

sign like this
to pass

no more

than that
breath you just

breathed

that gasp
in your thinking

perhaps this or

otherwise vanishing
now with or without

a trace
 

    b
     

such as I feel
(so often it was

dusk on Sunday)

opened and upheld
publicly

piecemeal after all

the sensations
and speaking

revert unto

flaming tongues
and ritual

cosmic cost
 

    b


is my witness
unthemed

and prophecy

nicely risked
sans portfolio

in this world

where all there is
resounds now

in the hollow

of my skull
this conch

where I am

molecules
spiral bound

again accused

and digitized
LORD

send me

 

    Sunday
    23 Feb 2003