Wolf Moon

A lone wolf
Prowling night
In lunar uniform.

Shown new paths
By tracks of
Howling light reborn.

To My Most Secret Audience

I am held together
By paper-
A thousand shredded drafts
Bound spiral for a page.
Every day,
Ink smuggled
Into song,
Smudging
The smoke of words.
Whispers
From the lips
Of languages.
I slip about,
Under brushes-
Skin shuffled
Like a snake.

My eyes are a voice
Down corridors
Of mirrors.
Someone appears there,
Speaking back-
Sometimes it is you.
Sometimes it is myself.
Like the two owls last night
With great white wings
Opened wide,
Chasing each other
About the dark
With a calling
Made of bells.

From A Once Room To Telling Forward

Who is it
In precise delight
That knows
Both
The shadows
And
The lanterns
Of
Your eyes?

Tonight
Reminded
Some sand
Is
Combustible-
A fire could
Grow wild
Just
About
Anywhere-
I recall its flickers
Work through
Creatures
Even
In the sea.

Such secret prayer
Revealed
Accordingly.
If you are prepared.
And always
Intimately.

Some
Ghosts
Go
Spelling,
Some
Learn
Calligraphy.

I am apt to burn and
Want it willingly.