Again, I’m going to make a short chapbook out of the poems from May 19/20 through June 6th on here. Do you want one?

Here’s another poem, in the mean time

Eyes of the Sun

It got dark out
Quickly, this evening.
You can hear the night
Falling, a creaking howl
Only audible through pipes
In the winded bathroom
After you’ve showered
And step out anew.
It sounds painful,
And shattered,
Like a stranger crying
Out for help once
But not again
On an apple-less summer
Afternoon, tense with you
And your leaf laden impatience
For the break of an angry
Moon. You, disgruntled
Disturb the toad’s prescience
While eying the horizon
Waiting for misfortune’s
Ivory eye to poke through
Reddening’s veil of freckles
That inverted itself
When it was spent.
You can never look into it.
It’s Charon’s luminary,
Alight above his river
As bone cold as the water,
As hollow as any wader’s
Expectations there, on the shore
Of every campfire’s sudden-ness
In the face of its
Watery, ashen grave-       
I know this, and attest that
It’s ineluctability unrestrained,
Having been long now
Staring into landscapes
Made strange by vacancy,
Landscapes made lively
In an unending rivulet
Of my cardinal life.
I here warn you hence, I,
Stranger to the palms
Of your love,
Hungry for wanting
The taste of your sin’s
Figs, maudlin at a sight
Of your lover’s tears.
I, the old man in the moon,
Dead to the eyes of the sun
And all of its flowering children