i'm hungry for
the end of meals
end of days
end of this
residual world

i'm tired of watching things from
the rear view mirror--
every rough edge dies
the farther i run

i'm sorry for
all the moments
of silence
i gave to
the genocide of
the soft petaled eyes
which blink in hopes
of heaven's greeting

their seeds
are not lost though
we reap
what we sow