It's Gonna Be a Beautiful Night

The Timid Suitor

 

Save the shaky palm which strokes the brow,

  what can untimeliness do to assuage?

Censure wayward star, contritely pen a vow

  and wish your eyes smile on the page?

Harvest

Breaking the circle of page and path we step aside.

     Harvest Moon, pregnant with soft gold,

                  denudes heaven.

It posts low,

vigilant over spoils.

Pull back the sheets. 

Cover mouths.

Mute pages sleep,

dreams reaped 

by prying eyes.

 

Nightfall

We cannot still desire or silence fear.

This print, Nightfall on pale as day pages.

Sun tucks eye under margin 

to close glaring Tribunals.

We're sentinels of night.

White blanks intimate explicit silences.

Every page a canvas where desire passes

kept breath.