EVENING KEEP

On the wasteland of our dreamscape
erecting campsites in the middle of 
the night.  Supplying another spot on 
the line of wavering dots.  Our flaring 
campfire barely altering the timbre 
of our star's voice.  Of the sparks flung 
our way from the dark, do you remain 
impartial?  Down here within these stone 
walls we can't help but wonder.  

BY THE WHARF

A carnivore fed only once, it said
"Dream me," while it ate a mouse
and afterward, the bones were scrapped,
cat-scratchings under the pylons now
dissolved in the moonlight
playing on the black surface 
of the water rippling amid
undulating shadows

BEFORE WE GET BURIED AGAIN

Under the low slung skin
Of the night reflecting fire
From our slow approaching star

Life lines held up like stems
In a jar full of water and sugar
We rose in the dark eyes closed

Asleep and forgetting the dream
Of being awake in a forest and breathing
It all in during a flashing silver sunrise