A book opened 
yet not read
my river of
words lay stagnant 
pools gathering dust 
a thin surface 
atop what was 
once teeming life 
interrupted so often 
by curious bubbles 
of fish and 
children wondering what 
this even was 
a book of 
pages that no 
one ever turned 

How can the distance 
between eye and mind 
be so very far
just a few inches 
but today it’s miles 
I see of course 
think I do not 
but rather I stay 
amidst the billowing clouds 
just looking for sun
thank goodness my hands 
know where they’re going 
being familiar with you 
and lips do too

I accept 
what is 
as all
but dreams 
still haunt
what’s left 
leaving me 
heavily heaving
as though 
life was
a binge 
and night 
its hangover 
perhaps coffee 
maybe coffee 
yes coffee 
will erase
these dreams 
from mind 
and I 
will be 
ready to 
drink again 

The best thing 
about going through 
what I’ve been 
is enjoying what 
little I have 
for when I 
did have more 
I had less 
of that which 
I have now 

I find comfort 
in darkness not
the suffocating black 
but more the
gray the dance 
of candlelight the 
sliver of moon
passing between the 
part of curtains 
and those brief
bright stars that 
appear in your 
eyes when they 
catch the same 
it’s in these
and in those
that darkness dreams