And Still No Sound from the Bottom

I am
the pebble,
the well,

and the silence.

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Letter to a Father

I want to comfort you.
can I comfort you?

I want to fly to you.
can I fly to you?

I want to fix you.
can I fix you?

I want to fill you.
can I fill you?

I want to save you.
can I save you?

I want to save us.
can I save us?

or do we sit here,
you and I,

undone,
until there is

enough room
for everything?

The Only Source of Light

If I had not stepped outside
of the darkened house tonight,
I would have missed the ripple
of Jupiter behind low clouds,
and the musk of burned cedar
collecting in the eaves.  I would not
have noticed the small flame flickering
inside of my own bedroom window,
softening the walls
with an almost unbearable
sweetness.