A Space, A Dot, A Line

The hesitant?
dawn cracks, as the
river of darkness squirms.

The moon?
was in last, to leave
the howling bank.

It looms large, a ?
brain-dead future. I think
I am forgetting my age.

You must face the
dying earth? sustained?
on prayers only.

This is the height
of dilemma. Why?
poems were hungry?