new moon . . .
a glimpse at nothing
right through it
 
wordsmith stone
rewriting (l)intimitations
of mortality

exacerbating this nowness of words

breathless
in the dark silence
of 3 am
a fall! a fall!
haiku momentum lost
in Latin
voices far off . . .
deep in late mountain light 
greenness rises
of morning
the best of what was
in a word
shooting stars
my sights skew
inwards
old age —
cave drawings move
on the wall
third-hand smoke
what was never before
becomes the all