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Don't Cry Over Spilled Shut Eye

A Poem

we hold him when he Sleeps

despite there is not rest

esophagus don't make a peep

I was reading of bird's nests


Too, I reread the Ciphers

too, the puzzle pieces

four sow their pickings as all for

to great there is to reap is


Skip across the half-light then,

like stepping stones, alert

exchange the fork for just a pen

no remorse in introvert


Had rapport house an organ

ripping out the Heart's seams

latent hemorrhage of body's dam

sutures muted the screams


Small crone perched in an armchair

veiled by a hat of crepe

long sir who swims through thin air

on only edge of capes

Now Reading
Don't Cry Over Spilled Shut Eye
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