a splinter of the shattered moon
is on evening watch
behind a layer of clouds
spitting snow

the wind moans
across the great jug
of night
stars are sparks
from a flint

countless ripples
of snow spread
to the place
near dawn
becoming a patch of forgotten time

somewhere a dog barks
for its former home
then falls into dreams
the night sighs on
surging across
the cold darkness

a voice whispers, "grief
disturbs the dead".
i won't throw away my regret
i owe you that much

clouds walk along the wind
climbing down the mountain
sighing their usual sorrowful sighs

they owe you that much

you are far away, i know that
on the other side of a long long bridge
of clouds and cornstalks
i am a sparrow
living on a live wire

i speak to your shadow
in bold type. you told me
you are no longer sure
if the earth will outlive us, or if we
will outlive the earth

the moon offered me a rope ladder
through the bedroom window
and my heart went still

it always takes so long for me
to put your words down, when
a dust dragon behind my car
settles back into its cave
and i see you in streams of dust
stirring in the wind

you said: don't fall back
into yourself
where sunshine is wasted
like a car running on its back

you gestured to me at dusk
and whispered:
retreating is a kind of dying
like a hawser coiling on deck
a roulette wheel spinning down
a circular staircase with wet paint
a crab nebula burning out
you took me in your hand
like picking up a snail shell
or the scroll of a violin

and uncoiled me into a river
whorled with mysterious forces in the dark