words/all have sneaked  away into the darkness 

assignation  a congregation of Spanish moss has taken over

where to find rain that I may wash bitterness off my chest

stare a condition of the eye that belies the soul's long rains

the shifting light presupposes I’m on terra firme

the sea in my ear washing to shore a bridge skips sunset 

screams draw the night moaning as if torture is ecstasy 

insomnia pitched voices stalking shadows