Most of All

But it was the sky most of all...
The sky was dark
the sky was dark and burning with stars
The sky was vast, it went on and on
and on.
The sky bled
the sky bled away color
the sky drained into darkness
the sky drained away into darkness and spoke of infinity
The sky of infinity
was silent
The sky, silent
spoke
The sky told of things
that were and are
the sky told of things yet to be

The sky was free
but it cost everything to know
The sky sang me to sleep
the sky called to me in my sleep
it woke me up
The sky said...
what was it that the sky said?
the sky, it said...
what?

The sky it said and said and said.

The sky
the sky
Why?

The sky I lost

The sky incoherent

The sky went far beyond me
above me
the sky ran beneath me
The sky ran like a river
washing it all away

The sky like sand ran though my fingers

The sky blew away in the wind

The sky was the Earth

but it was the sky most of all
that saved me.

November Nights

The howling winds, they all call out to me. The Big Lake roars, the weather turns, it is always turning, turning, turning, bitter cold. The trees bereft of leaves a spiny mass of gray, here and there interwoven with veins of birch virgin white, rattling on the ridges as other colors fade. A lone yellow leaf clings to a branch. I seek the solitude that comes with these November nights that sang me to sleep when I was newly born.