Listen to poem:
The River Remembers Sky
Written: August 14, 2025
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River answers cloud with shimmer, and cloud
with a hush that folds into silver—
a breath that rises through its forgetting,
still and wild, akin to an unspoken name.
Between echo and echo, intellection
unbuttons its syntax,
and the ancient self thins.
into filaments of looking.
Now the wind tunnels through the reeds,
Now dusk unthreads the horizon.
Stones lean inward. Five crows
arrive as verdicts in the birch canopy.
Owls blink—eyes such a rusted lanterns—
and twilight drips from their wings.
The empty skiff moves back and forth.
It's a low hum in the current.
a resonance that deepens
until it chimes with absence.
When it docks, the message it carries
is an apology, folded in dusk.
And so, as a glint of practiced grace,
The day’s last gold recedes.
in the hills behind our silence.
What I wish from you tonight
is not comfort, but a touch
that remembers the storm.
I wish your breath to lift my name.
same as ash from the altar—
to feel, when your fingers trace
the fault lines in my chest,
our empire of longing
crumble into wilderness.
Above us, the planets slip.
as secrets across the dark,
and the stars, pale and multiplying,
defy the night with their stillness—
defining its scrap
by refusing to move.
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