long short sight
in the furthering out of the loin mist
between eyes unfocused
the long way aching in shoulders
that refuse to sob at
this seance of nothing
remove the scarf of winter distant
the pallid tears so grey so grey
long eyes cast my ways but
beyond comprehension’s sight
call did you call i say
what knifed poet can you be
beyond the veil so far from me
that lays the chord the string the thread
that i might at least see
but no answer comes back to me
dead as ever down this ratted culvert
this milky night of moon lime
a trickle that dries and mists again
across all my whys and wherefores
lying back on pillowside closed eyes
and you are gone once more
for now that is all
is it not
falling from my hand
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