Ninety-seven walk through glue days.
In a row.
Soul rubbed raw.
For better or worse, the inside of everything is showing now.
My eyes are dust. The harshest images
defy tears.
I cry only from that which is tender.
Too much of this. Not
Enough of that.
Half my heart is severed.
And half soars towards redemption.
Finally.
Of Loss and Longing for Someone I’ve Never Met: A Message for Alon Ohel
Alon alone not able to standnor breathesuffocating by inchesin the fetid air in the before timeyou breathed musicjazz bloomedfrom your