x : Unknown

Poetry as History. History as Catharsis. Catharsis as Poetry.

Darkness (words after a fall)

And if your voice is drowned
By stormy winds and murky depths
I can at least scan the horizon
For signs to right the rudderless hull by

Lights (words before a fall)

As easy as it would be to say so
We are not ruled by our stars
At best, faded and unsteady lights to guide
Our journeys separate or together

spent and not satisfied

faith and i are become faraway friends
mostly we don't even speak
facing fortunes and sorting schedules
leaves me weary and weak
and the stories i tell myself
are colder than this
hard enough to keep my fire burning
much less someone else
uncertain
even in living and breathing

saving myself
for music and books
and dancing daughters

rescue myself
for coffeemaking
while she writes