My Sphinx

For mourning two today, three tonite. Where lies the cusp of death but within the burning night….

My I

Tasting it lightly, feeling more slightly woozy. Soon we wander outside: look the stars are new, they’ve…

Did you catch it, that squall of a nuptial bed? The acorns’ flew to mountains overhead keen…

Doffing the pretense of yesterday’s songs, to the south do I face in the northerly sun as…

The beginning of seasons, you herald new calm before, beginning, and between none. The oldest of…

Dearest documentation, the kindest passing as we touch these cloacas, these primitive passions tamed into something lean:…

Each gulp of death casts its moment deep into gullies, gaps like torrents easing into place; appeasing this…

Remaining uxoric, I wince at the phase of the passing moods, the lingering praise for deeds only…

Should the ashes reburn: fare not that tide of meanderings repentant, a sweltering time spied in the…

Rising again from your cool, dank succor: may we celebrate what leaves if you weather these barren…