my dreams are lonelier without you
emptier than anciently lost deserts
that were old and tired long before
God created sin
more desolate than the infinitely frozenness
of Europa's eternal noiseless slumber
around a forgotten god's torpor
and so my reveries lack the prismatic joys
they once had when you spoke softly
into my nearby whispering soul
grey and silent now as my thoughts wander
through the emptiness of an ice cream parlor
in Nome, Alaska in December
during those longest hours of night
when even the moon refuses to turn her face
upon the earth's melancholy tears
which fall by Ezra's side
like rain from a weary heaven
widowed by plague and war and apathy

09/23/2001

Posted on 09/23/2001
Copyright © 2025 Gary Hoffmann