"Empty tables but crowded hallways"

Again i am slammed within the walls

the weight on waves of moonlight strikes
chords with the gold of my soul
while space pours itself across the splits and
rips and cracks and trenches of my stanza
the familiar adieu of a misprint in conversation
the glint of irony in your switchblade phrase
said in a flood of character
burning with the papers patience for
your look to rest on me
as i stand shaken at the knees into deep ground
and lying on awful eye contact,
of a strangers glance