by John Grey
Enclosed by dark, free in the islands where mountains encroach, your thoughts and mine sail on a windless sea – silence runs through a delicate flame, the birdless song that enfolds us, the shadows that roll up and down like waves – lying on soft sand, on every side, the world deepens as it fades, and the moon, as it struggles to lift a veil, merely lays down another one. John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Stand, Washington Square Review and Floyd County Moonshine. Latest books, “Covert” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in the McNeese Review, Santa Fe Literary Review and Open Ceilings.