The Sky Is

the sky is
a crisis of lying maddened nights 
violet light last signs of 
escaping days
the sky is what it is
small voices in darkened shapeless trees
belong to the bodies of all lost to the ages
carved away from the reality of hearing 
the quietest sounds
screams of the drowning crowd
the whisperer
a slow sip of whisky later
a man shapes his image 
with the help of the moon
then loses himself
in the warm songs
of his own
making

jppestana
The Sky Is
8.5.2019