A small 8-track recording device floats away,
somewhere in space & sends signals back home.
The unknown is documented as dream language,
from the open mouth of empty.
A weightless time machine carries the universe
as cocoon, ethereal & black. Stars break sound
away from widows of lightning.
Loneliness exists despite our longing.
Silence does not exist, & forever
feels somewhere between false &
what water holds.
Leaving Lepanto for the Last Time
Allow us to rise to perfection,
not as spiritual ascension
as something more like whale song lifted
from under this ecstatic emptiness.
Beautiful singing cycles built an unfamiliar language
to convey our infinite resurrection.
Lost in the eye of this gulf
we see only your peaks.
To Give Training in Close Observation
The space between your world & mine
will end as a chasm.
Static pauses in speech unsettle me.
To express myself,
wonder struggles words to make
sense of why.
Gesture, both musical and non, forgives.
Coltrane reminds the silence
that desert stillness
by indeterminate drumming
a rapid, repeating fire
is your absence.
Our children disappear much closer