HONEY-TINGED

I wonder what he was doing,

or in the middle of,

when he heard his name?

And how did it come,

skipping not only across space,

but even eternity?

Did it distort, spreading its vowels

over broad mountains of time,

or did it race in quick river

consonants down a

steep, divine valley?


LA - ZA - RUS


Three syllables of interruption,

disturbing paradise

and a man with new skin

in a world imbued with light.


Stunned—no doubt—

he staggered toward the familiar

voice, stumbled into a dark

cave redolent of death,

before peering through faded sunshine

into a swarm of wet faces,

his tongue and lips still tinged

with the honeyed feast of heaven.