Improv.

Let my pen swallow
this. Ink flowing like
a veil, it covers the
sights, the sounds.
Like black of night
lit only by the moon,
a calming surround.

Untitled

Neither can I pen a word
Than I can touch your
Lovely face.
Disenchanted, I labor
Over the work at hand.
To speak your name
Is to acknowledge the
Existence of God.