Lawrence W. Berggoetz


                                  my feet-
         now carry me
                           like smoke
i stray into the dankest
                        corners my
          steps could never
                                        reach      before
              leaving without a
                                    stain to be

i am unclean as the night

                           dark and
                                  nebulous but for
           the light dancing
                     blue in
    my eyes
                  -small as a
       dawn sighting
                                      of Venus

                            my voice often
                                    hides from
        my thoughts
my words grow
                           slowly as a
                                    glassblower forming
       a delicate chalice
They sit to
            cool       before collecting
                          into song
                  i wash my
        hands with
                          soft sand
      The dust
i hold       until
            night cleanses me
       the silent
                     falling of the
            moon's dry

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