Peter Galen Massey

dry palms clatter in / the breeze, the bay is black ink / splashed with moon silver

a star-scattered field, / the city fades under a / blood orange sunrise

a sip of latte / is as soft and rich as a / kiss from hungry lips

the rushing night clouds / veil and unveil in silence / the city’s cold stars

what good all these words / dancing with dexterity / when my heart fails you?

winter light falls like / the clarity of reason / on the mumbling man

a storm of sparrows / explodes off the rusting fence / swift shrill and outraged

new soft creation / blank and wonder eyed, stunned and / sleepy from the void

luminous bubbles / rise in the glowing glass like / souls rushing toward god