The Night After the Last Mass Shooting

If I could sing how night feels to me
It would be a sleepless
Gem of a song
Lonely, empty of longing
Waiting to be filled,
A Chinese vase waiting
For a spring bouquet,
A blessed emptiness
The dark unknown sprawled before
And after me
Lover of all things, earth
Moon, the cold stars
That no longer give light
Yet their light
Falls here
In the dead of night on me—
What sound is that?
Sylvia’s disembodied voice
Whispering in the dark
“The world hurts me like it hurts God”








Have a Tao Day.

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