Psalm or Face Palm

Only the fridge and a computer fan

Whisper their condolences

To the solitude sought.


My mind, plenty loud like

Headphones clapped on

My ears, cymbals


On symbols of reception,

The white noise of

My own pseudo conclusions.


Psalm 51 like area 51

Draw my curiosity

To the mystery of grace


Folded into mercy

As the pairing of woofer

And tweeter balance


Morning upon mourning

Of music, while the songs

In the night fade.


A Time To

And the rain falls one drop at a time,

All at once.

Its voice collected from the spaces  between

The pear shaped missiles.

Variations of tone, from guttural to whispers

Of moisture wending.

Thank You for speaking this way

When Ecclesiastes became my umbrella

Under the sun.