And I hope you are alright
and I hope the next day
treats you more gently
than the last
and I hope you’ll be alright,
somehow, despite the world burning,
I hope you are alright

Sinking Silver

I don’t have gentle words
right now
just the rolling tides of
thunder roiling behind my teeth
under the sinews of my hands
pulled taught with the plummeting
of barometer birds to catch
the slippery silver linings far below
diving after silver words
treasures sinking
into the silence before the storm.

Grey Area

It’s a grey matter
and a brain waiting at the bus stop
in the nowhere of between

it’s a grey area
between chairs
and talking in doorways

and it’s subject to

missed rites of passage
the passing of time

grey fading
into all directions

between twilights