Sweet is the milk
Sugar nectar
Deep is the well
Falling to center


Voice in the night
Touched without silk
Empty broken visions
Crashed and lost


Sweet is the voice
Flashing smile
Deep are the jests
Longing for piano

Waiting for hands
Waiting for fingers
A loving wall cast
Of primed sea foam oils


Sweet are the notes
Black ones stick

Never play
Never spoken

But felt in crashing spirit
Dangling moments, parting
Like tight ropes, spinning

Stolen is the night
Foolish fool tricks

Torn from the ground
Like dust dried green


Never promised
Never taken


Given to phantoms
And frozen opportunity


Bittersweet is the milk
Of a dream broken by forms
Rain on tin roofs
In fields of farms


Not touched
Never came

Cotton not wool
Stories in bellies
Lost in the waves
Of an ocean too full
Of tortured salt water
To take one more ruddy drop