looking for words to give a friend but there are only ink trails
Time Thyme waiting for the flavour of life to return
"Bless you", I say and turn away. There is no comfort
I understand the inner winter and the toothache of the soul
and wanting it ripped from your head and words herbs seasoning winter

being still
being quiet
enjoying the peace of breathing
being

erebus and kali

I feel so far away

stand back from the feelings and yet let them in
let them move through you like a curtain of silence and shivers
and breathe out the circling/spiralling thoughts
from Ithaca to Montauk and return
there is only distance and whispering dreams

I held your hand and
vinegar flowed from my eyes:
I watched your eyes dry

with death, with death, with death - you
mother, your eyeballs drying - the doctor
closing the silence, in the morning

mourning, ten years ago
I held your hand

sitting on the bus
before dawn, the traipse and tread
of cold commuters

sometimes I love you
more than I love myself but
pride and the sea change

in the breathing space
during dark winter mornings
I seek news of you