Hi Krista, good to see you here. I think you're right about the wet feet line. I was concerned about its clarity but I was partial to it. So I put it back in. For now. Thanks for taking a look.

-A-

Tonight my prayers
are a house built
with the bones of birds.

Tonight the stars roar
their gravity somewhere
beyond our ears.

Tonight the wind
is louder than God
has ever been.

I never see the dew fall
but every new sunrise
my feet are wet.

Thank you all for taking a look at this. It's great to see each of you here. Thanks for the kind words. As for the couch, it's there very intentionally and ties to the title. When I wrote this my wife and I were separated and much writing came out of this. My challenge was to understate that part - I have no desire to out-Lowell Lowell. Perhaps it comes across as confusing, but hopefully not to the extent of removing the reader too much.

Thanks again all.

-A-

Tonight my daughter said that the sun
was beneath the grass. She’s six
and doesn’t know how things work.

Tonight I laid on the couch, trying to sleep, staring
at yesterday and the day before that,
everything buried beneath the grass.

I’m thirty-three and I don’t remember what it’s like
to know where the sun goes at night.

Good stuff Posty. Not sure about the ending. For some reason the words "pageantry" and "acceding" left me cold. They come across too...well, I don't know what, but too something. I think there's something less clinical you can use here. Hell if I know what that is. I enjoyed it and will continue to read it and I may post in a day or two to disregard everything I said. I reserve that right.

-A-

Mike,

good to see you here. Hopefully we can find our own exodus here and even if it's a wandering through the desert, at least we'll be together.

As for the poem, I think the vast majority of it is brilliant. My only nit (and feel free to disregard it) is the allusion to Charlton Heston. It feels cheap, gimmicky. At the least it takes me out of the poem. The rest of the poem is mystical with a hint of humor (or humour) and works wonderfully. I don't you need the Heston bit. But again, that could just be me.

Enjoyed as always.

-A-