alight

Slightly edited (if anyone even saw the last version).

Another draft. Oh, dear. Thoughts welcome. Title suggestions welcome. Again, I don't know what happened with formatting. It's ever-so-boring with blogger.

keep Sure with song and
deed. Sing new.
Black lacunae, night and blaze.

GOD IT’S WINTER
but bangkok: a wired warm bulb
growing green – feisty Tiger Lily tropic

pinching my toes asleep / bedsheets
warbled / audio cassette / tape film
tangled noise is tangled sleep. sheets. Mosquitoes.

Pierced OR, more hasty,
disease in my young toes & heels.
I worry of morning gray and fog?

Do
My God, do I worry?
Against Command?

Angle. Angel – you don’t know
the New Year silvery blue glass bulbs
hung for you. The difference?

Bright Star, not quite for You.
So WHO – My Lord –
seeks ? and for whom / to whom?

Even the blackest Bangkok night is not
without Your yellow gaze and gloaming
over salt-sprinkled streets. But where ? are we hiding

You? in speech, daily plans.
Day. Day. Day. Day. Day.
I don’t know, I forget words to say. So

My God, I sing
and summer conchs blare a seeming silent night in two.
Please. You, to please You

takes desire. Grace – not ours.
Though failing, still we fail,
Your grace fulfills / fills the night,

lacunae: alight. And no
return, nor room left
to which to return.