return

this sleep

is being climbed

into

the outline

refilled

if blood could

rejuvenate

another

i

would

over in the

seeped world

over in the crept

world, frayed stood

where the landscapes

are grey seizures

you’ll never

come thru

the fiery tips

of morning,

this dream will

thaw, its door

i grieve you thru

ink trying to

be a smile yet

faces only full

goodbyes,

glimpses

and fading

 reminisces

everywhere isn’t

to dream

of nothingness

is to wake

empty, to

wake in

breath

being held

trees grasped still

birds sewn into nests,

the daffodil’s yearning

for up is sucked into

backwards into the

bulb of its rich cot

into its gaoler of

sap knots, a shadow in its suitcase

nothing has

nothing to give,

it is a dead

annunciation,

a sunlessness

a defeated spire,

a mortuary to the lost