50

The Long Nights Moon 

Wakes before sunset 

And stays up through the dawn

The Cold Moon

Though many are colder

The distance of my eyes

To the eternal

Reflecting the light

Back home in the dark 

49

I'm returning to the words. 

The absence may be accounted for 

And counted out 

In a language older than this.

Numbers like feathers, like sand,

Light on the 3 column pages,

Sift through the double lines.

A desert in my heart

Turning a man's labor,

His hours away from home,

Into bread and shingles. 

The taxing business of living,

Of owning what cannot be taxed.  

48

48

The debris of life

Clings to me

And falls from my lips