M. Hank

I think I live for the silent and still —

The friends you made against your will.

The evening light,

The morning mist,

The impossible odds that you even exist.

What will you do with your one wild and precious life? 

There was June snow 

All day today,

Whispering through the air

it's hard to remember when/ 

when the throat begins to scratch at the mouth, begging to be let free

when the stomach begins its churning waves like an upset ocean god

it is dark at night 

not the type of dark 
i may envy 

the type that frightens me 

the unknowing of the present 

i say goodbye and yet i find myself thinking about you again

i think about you in the weeping willow

singing a song of emotions that i do not know

i wonder if given the opportunity

I am someone who is waiting on a dock in the middle of the night. There is a gross, green electric light shining on me. There is something out in the waves.