My Hollow Heart's Eyes

late at night, after all those bored people have gone to bed, that's when the beautiful star filled emptiness awakens, my hollow heart's eyes...

the signs and signals are there, comforting me,

alas, I tend to pay more attention to black cats,

midnight owls and nightingales, my affections

steering this heavy wheel through the caress

of backwood trees, their crooked gnarled limbs invite me deeper into some shadowy thicket

freely, veering away from hubbubing yesterday,

slumbering escapes me, as the salty silhouette of a lone wolf tells me of a hungry consumption

James Kenneth Blaylock