There was a first time

There will be a final page, the faded note and empty seats. One day the concert hall will be an office block and after that a hospital. Our hands at the serenade took home the note that fades. — It’s spring again. The blossoms I wrote about last year came too early this year, even before

Nearing the End

The second-to-last exertion is not the rainbow. It is the to-and-fro flight of a raven clamped in darkness for 150 days. Let there be beats the raven’s wings Let there be beats the raven’s hope No land, raven. No release. Below yap choppy waves, corpses float and catch on broken trees. No release, raven. No