Love Sonnet to the tune of a detuned violin

The first time I didn't see God,
—His hair unkempt like busted nylon strings—
I determined to write him an aubade
for fear I wouldn't not see him again.

Though arose a second occasion
(the first time I'm able to not hear his voice
(perfectly detuned like an unbalanced equation)),
I refrained from gift-giving by reverent choice.
He passed me by inside an earthquake.
My aubade: ashes&dust at first sign of daybreak.

Then the third (He graces my shoulder (left) each footstep
a looped clip of a hundred dropped pencils), I realize
how man cannot compute what's so
beautifully irrational and holy disorganized.

O To Abide By Myself an ode to slumber

breaths I can't hear
(nor feel) but see
by shuttered eyes:
crystallized, but
in summer eyes;
summarized
smokes and dyes.
Light intervenes
and I realize, but

steal half-hours
here, then there
like plucking raspberries
from foster patches
where unbridled thorns
gnash tips of flesh.
Still, I can't be kept
from bruised tenderness.

And Light intervenes
here, then there
until I realize
the breaths I can't hear.
I gasp
stretch blood into muscle
paralysis
wishing Light hadn't intervened
that the world wasn't ending,
and for bruised raspberries
I could keep.

Only Stars Out Elegy + Pantoum

Earthen color
displaced the white of her eyes
when her cheeks rose, her lips curled, and
I was

displaced. The white of her eyes—
the only stars out that night.
I was
looking down to see

the only stars out that night.
The clouds were thick,
looking down to see
what my memories withered into.

The clouds were thick
when her cheeks rose, her lips curled, and
what my memories withered into:
earthen color.