Somewhere there's a heaven,
but you'll not see me there--
I've left the path so long ago,
but I don't know where.

Somewhere there's a weeping man,
a victim of his mind,
inner torment is his curse,
his eyes it renders blind.

Somewhere my hand slipped away,
as you held on tight,
somewhere I was snatched away
by shadows in the night.

Somewhere there's a little boy,
crying all alone,
lost inside my twisted heart,
wanting to come home.

Dancers of the Wild Hunt

One summer's night, I chance on a display:

a shepherd snaking people through a town.

Clad in white shifts shoulder-to-ground, all sway

to the piping ethereal. I drown

in wanting to weave with this starlit wave.

the rain is getting 
shorter 
an hour more 
a second 
breath 
and someone somewhere 
is speaking 
like a fire 
speaking 
exactly 
lightly 
clearly 
similar to a vale 
in which you get down 
and yet you are high 
or a soil 
which you do not decay into 
when the rain stops 
may I manage 
something to put down 
before scattering 
with the fireflies