Maybe the Guff was empty, cancer full moon eclipse

Written by: Dave Collins

Maybe the guff was empty—Cancer full moon eclipse

Left field call on the black wall phone
faint cry from the distant end
spoke with throat lump of capital
disaster and a troddened womans most
everydom—lost before found—somehow Jan
knew and put forth a celestial no comment with 
I-hope-I-am-wrong-love gesture for the
love torn bull awaiting a cancerfold friend
offspring no spring-perhaps next spring. Anna
soild Anna so poised of classic stock sometimes
never bending to an antiflexible Taurus mood
was caught in a never place,  why of questions-
depleted character strikes. Will the blood
hordes rally for the fallen “fetalrade” and
heal the internal emohurt temperature 
inferno of unknown bliss. Does it ever come
at the right instant? Like where’s a cop when
you really need one—maybe 7-11 therapy would 
bring solice and peace. Forgive the forgiver
and pass your sense into another ability
Keep your mind and your soul for the little 
lost egg. I don’t know know or could never compromise 
no more of a complex juxtaposition of life
and death than that of biobeings so
closely connected that share the same
existance, one within-one yet
percent infinity bonded in a tidewater
liquid symbiosis that no manbeing in time
past or future will hope to match let alone
entertain. Be that as it may, you’ve felt the
sting of life and the creation of flesh for a brief
moment of time in time   and time is that holder of all
events we hope to achieve—your time in both
will come to be—you will share
and create from within, and not waiver
about the fallbacks we run down for
no explanations from anyone will suffice
or reason to make a whole sense of such
a fathomless inconsistency. I felt your
loss deep in my knees and thoughts flew
to your little soul upstairs. There are words
and there are no words—my deepest senses
to you and Dana—I know it will happen for you
as all things come to pass for those deserving                          dave collins