I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

Home | A Pleonexic Urge | The Root Of Motion | When The Candles Are Out | Love Songs To The Dead | Titans And Turncoats | This Lovers' Life We Lead | Prayers To A Ghost | Your Opening Eyes Nigh | The Enterprise Of The New Routine | Orphans And Demagogues | Nocturnal Emissions | The Fortune Of Failure | Transcension Beneath The Bitter Sun | Watching The Furnace Fire | Adventures Of The Crimson Enigma | Memoirs Of A Mercenary | My True History | I Never Knew Him | Midnight Rambling | From The Silence

So Much Older Then

When you spoke of the tone of

the wind or the timbre of falling

trees, I could do no more than

sigh a confession, not blast

nor blaze against your religion;

though I laughed when you set

the basket to catch it, the leak

off the shingle, but it formed

from a single torrent to a zen–

sponsored fountain of faith.


To satisfy my hunger you baked

a rice cake in colour then drew

your mouth and spoke a volume

of prayer to the silences there

where you knocked on the sky.

When the steep slope slanted

toward the horizon, I joined

the wordless orison gleaned

from the spheres and offered

to the cloud and ions above us.