Dawn is a dog's yawn, space in bed where a body should be, a nectared yard, night surviving in wires through which what voices, what needs already move--and the mind nibbling, nibbling at Nothingness like a mouse at cheese:
Sometimes one has the sense that to say the name God is a great betrayal, but whether one is betraying God, language, or one's self is harder to say.
Gone for the day, she is the day opening in and around me like flowers she planted in our yard. Christ. Not flowers. Gone for the day, she is the day razoring in with th