A ticket to the Void.
Home is a flicker of light on the horizon of vision,
Is a disjointed question, awkward stacks of suitcases,
Is the yearning I have to communicate to you its lack,
because you already know.
A still sad everything
in slowly emerging morning.
uncertainty in how we dovetail joint
these flickering wing shudders
words that seem to resonate like
Joy when it occurs,
as obvious the rain is when climbing
and skidding down mossy paths
to Cybi’s Well.