it dawns
the pre-cum of light
in wakening
within their meaning
within so few syllables
these whispers of breath
darkling roost
some bird without a name
calls me out
all at sea
hand scars become
a life-line
old history
a frog delves into
another blank page
my pen tap-dances along 
themes of exclusion
lost to light 
still in longing
listen now!
a decomposer sounds out 
the end of sound
lightning flash
into the other side
of blueness

forcing the issue may I will

the moon is the viewer's and the fullness thereof

behold the darkness mooning over us

way back then
the little caught
in a breath
what is
and what isn't
in being

in my image the fog of war