1

Count your miracles––
night vision
evening news floodlights
too much winter
warmth small
dogs on the moon
indivisible unbeholden
their owners lacking
vigilance––

                           The stoop is a pulpit

Faint beyond halogen
you almost miss
southernly gestures
hellos in crossing

old habits are vermin
they gag us always
outlasting experiments
in disruption

already awash
in regrets here have
another–– someone
you know unlocks

for you
the door
goes to bed
and lonely

before this
music company
                    for night –– do they say that
                                      the end is a-comin’
                                      soon or do they say
                                      forget the sun worship
                                      the moon

 
 
 
 
 
2

Devastating radiance is intertwined
in opposition. Late maternal calls decipher
Spanish radio prophets bewitched ministers
in an age of confusion. Pinholes render
voices of God speechless. Prayers for you.
Animals in your house well-fed always holding
your ease still weeping for more. Are we
too busy to love now, remember amaranthine
street corners we swerved having thought
we cracked something, an excess of shadow
as key yet having stolen ourselves blind
we did not recognize ourselves in its blurring.
We had been looking into water fog and sun.
I missed the ground.      Speak for me.
 
 
 
 
 

(Text in italics come from a song by Vic Chesnutt, "Warm.")