When the rooster turns the last night hour page
And sky arranges midnight stars in a constellation of your unconscious desire
My thoughts will surrender
To a humid darkness
Of a newly bloomed seeded cloud
That nests between the last whippoorwill call
and dawn flash storm–
before it pours; written on the picture window you’ll find

 a poem in a free style. Just a nightly extreme.
So refrained, but it sneaks out on tip-toes.
Escapes. Runs too far into the woods,
and when it comes back the soul dissolves like a paper.
Word by word
hit by rain drop buckshot
drips down the glass encrypted ink secrets–

tempest outburst leaves me awoken with a hollow expression,
hangs unrest dark circles
around wide open eyes stare
into the warbling pith of early morning absence

(this is my official birthday song this year…..thanks friends for bringing back this song to my memories…. )

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